Finding Fire
by Kiley S. Snape
Summary: A prelude of sorts to "Strange Love Found in a Strange Land." How different would the conclusion of Thorin Oakenshield's quest be if an Avatar was among his company? Will Lyra be able to get past her own past to overcome her greatest failure as the Avatar?
1. Chapter 1

Finding Fire

by Kiley S. Snape

At first, it was like every other visit I had made to Middle-Earth…filled with dwarves, men, elves, and orcs. It was a world I wished to be a part of- not to be confined only to visiting throughout various eras and ages. I wanted to be the Avatar _Middle-Earth_ needed.

"Will you help us?" Lady Galadriel addressed me, an omnipotent smile gracing her ethereal features.

"Always."

I began to fall. Unlike the many times I came to Middle-Earth, I dropped from many leagues. I fell through space and time, all the while feeling as though I was being ripped into a thousand pieces. Perhaps this is what death felt like- sudden and heady, and felt too untimely.

In a blaze of brilliant fire that stilled my thundering heart, I dropped through a night sky and hit the water's surface. My bones ached, and I sluggishly swirled my hands through the water around me. I braced myself for the propulsion that never came.

Something was terribly wrong. The water did not adhere to my command. My sodden clothes grew heavy, and I yearned for the sudden surge of power of my bending to race through my veins. None came. My already weak limbs' attempts to break the surface to fill my burning lungs with precious air tapered off to feebly spasms. Perhaps this was my end.

Strong hands gripped me with a bruising force and pulled me up. I sputtered and coughed as the person dragged me through the water to what I prayed was the shore. The unknown hero hauled me up onto stone steps that smoothly led into the water. Air had never felt so glorious and foreign. They shoved me away from them as I began to wretch water. My head throbbed in time with my pulse as I staggered onto my hands and knees. No doubt, I looked like a half-drowned rat-viper.

"There, there- it's all right. You're quite safe," an aged voice I knew well murmured.

"She fell from nothing through the sky and into the pool," another voice queried, "Gandalf, how is that possible?"

"An ancient magic is at work here- one long forgotten."

"She needs to get inside."

"Help…me," I rasped around chattering teeth, "…up."

Thick arms hooked under my lithe ones, and their bearer hoisted me off the ground. I glanced over my shoulder to identify the possessor of the second voice, and my haggard breath caught in my chest. Even when dripping wet and with flushed cheeks, he was magnificent to behold.

"Thorin Oakenshield," I announced in awe, ensnared by the flint-azure eyes I had only beheld from afar through the years.

"How do you know of me?"

"You can receive an answer at a later time, Thorin," Gandalf admonished, "For now, she must rest and get into some dry clothes."

Thorin and Gandalf guided me up the ornate flights of stairs, and found an empty bed chamber for me to use. Thorin watched me from beneath his stern brow as I traipsed about the room on weak legs, idly running my fingers along the various surfaces that furnished the room.

"Come along," Gandalf grunted, "The lady needs her privacy."

"Until we meet again, Thorin Oakenshield," I bid the dwarf-prince softly. I had not seen the heir to throne of Erebor since before the untimely demise of his grandfather…and the years had equal in their kindness and cruelty- hard lines were carved into his otherwise handsome features, but with it he carried a confidence only granted through time.

"You have the advantage of knowing my name, but I know not what you call yourself."

"I am Lyra," I offered with an impish smile.

"At long last, you have managed to stay. Oh, the strange things that washes up in the River Loudwater, Avatar Lyra."

I turned about to face Lady Galadriel, startled by her sudden appearance. "I did not think I would be called by my title in this place, my Lady."

"I would not have you forget yourself- or your purpose," the Lady of Light remarked gently.

"Then you should know of how I arrived…why was I not able to bend myself out of the river? And why can I not bend now?"

"Your spirit has not attuned to this world, thus you have fallen out of balance with Rava. Until your own spirit can find anchor here, you will continue to be void of your powers."

How simple it was for a nonbender to say such devastating words with such seemingly careless ease. My heart sunk low, and my eyes burned with the threat of tears. I struggled to form a proper response, but I was incapable. _Incapable of bending- an Avatar incapable of bending._ I shivered violently, and looked to the she-elf for counsel, only to find her gone.

After grabbing a robe from its resting place over the back of a chair, I slipped out into the corridor. I wandered the empty, dimly lit halls until I found myself beneath the stars in a courtyard. The constellations were so different than the ones I was born beneath in my homeland. The warm summer breeze idly combed through my unbound hair, and I toed off the thin shoes I had been provided with. The earth beneath my feet felt like a balm, but nonetheless I heard the faint rustle of approaching feet through the grass, and I let a serene smile curve my lips.

"Hello," the person greeted me hesitantly, "Are you Lyra?"

I looked over my shoulder, smile still firmly in place. It was Bilbo Baggins of the Shire. "I am," I affirmed faintly, "And what finally brought you out of the comfort of your home beneath the hill? And last I saw you, Bilbo Baggins, you were just in your tweens!"

The hobbit eyed me curiously, stuffed his thumbs into the pocket of his waistcoat, and slowly made his way to my side. "You know me?"

"You don't remember catching fireflies or making mud patties with me?" I reminded him with a nostalgic smile.

The hobbit's eyes widened as he recalled all the adventures we had completed, and here we were together again to go on the grandest adventure of all. "Are you also the reason Thorin returned to the company cross, soaked, and cursing the other night?"

"Mhm," I hummed, "Quite the scowl that dwarf has, too."


	2. Chapter 2

"It's not so bad- once you get used to being on the receiving end," Bilbo assured me.

"Is the library still there?" I inquired, pointing to the building to our left.

"Y-Yes, how did you know that?"

"I have known this place since I was a child- and I have been to many realms of Middle-Earth."

For hours, Bilbo and I poured over ancient texts and tomes in the library. We sought out epic poems and tales of adventure that praised the victors, whom saved the West from utter darkness. Eventually though, Bilbo left me to my own devices amongst the vast number of reading I had gathered around me whilst he perused the paintings.

I read the histories of the First Age, the Istari, and the Island of Númenor…my heart ached for Erendis, who suffered so keenly that her own heart became hardened. I poured over ancient maps, following the journeys of all the races as they all found their homes in due time.

"Will you come meet the dwarves?" Bilbo stammered, "That is, I think you would enjoy their company…"

"I would love to," I assured him.

Bilbo and I walked down to the courtyard filled with the rowdy dwarves. I smiled at their rough manner with one another, recalling how similar my nation was.

"Bilbo, we thought you wandered off again," one dwarf greeted, I knew his father- Fundin.

"Everyone," Bilbo addressed the group nervously, "This is Lyra."

"So you're the one that Uncle had to fish out of the pool last night!"

"Kili!" his younger brother chided.

"It's all right," I laughed gently, "I grew up in a village filled with honourary brothers, who made sure I developed a thick skin." I bowed before all the dwarves and popped back up with a broad grin.

I soon learned that all the dwarves were a great source of humour, save for Dwalin and Thorin- who conversed quietly one another away from me.

"Are there dragons in your homeland, Lyra?" Fili asked, his inflection conveyed lightness but I knew the answer would need to be carefully worded.

"Aye," I answered faintly, "There are many…but they live in the country south-west of my homeland."

"How many villages do they raid?" Thorin spat, suddenly coming into my view with eyes blazing bright as he bore down upon me, "How many homes have they taken from the helpless?"

"None," I murmured, "They are noble creatures- who prefer to be left to themselves than those who seek them with ill purpose-"

"-Huh! Noble creatures," Thorin protested darkly, "You know only of fairy stories, then, girl. You know nothing of the world."

I flinched at the verbal lashing, briefly recalling the sounds of Thraa's pained roars, but rose to my feet nonetheless. In several strides, I was nose-to-nose with the dour dwarf. Azure clashed with peridot, like water against stone, both of us refusing to yield to the other. "I am not a girl- I have not been a child for quite some time. I know much of hardship, Thorin Oakenshield," I attested, "I know of grief and agony as well as you…but I know you are wrong. I lived with three dragons when I was but a child, and they are not the harsh, greedy beasts you claim them to be…hate has blinded you, and you best clear your vision before you are struck down in your weakness."

It was amusing, to be considered so small in my homeland, and yet I stood eye level with the great Thorin Oakenshield. I ignored Dwalin's warning growl as I calmly walked through the now silent dwarves and hobbit. So lost in my thoughts, I walked to the high outcrop that overlooked Rivendell; I sat on the ledge and watched the sun fall in the distant west. I raked my fingers through the rich, loose soil- expecting to feel the ageless strength seep into my skin. But nothing- only nothing.

"Until I find anchor," I recalled with a faint scoff, "It will be the Third Age before I find anchor in this place."

"You will find your answer…in time."

I looked over my shoulder to find Gandalf standing a short distance behind me. The wizard was leaning against his staff, and the gleam in his eye led me to believe that he had been expecting me. I brushed a wayward strand of hair out of my face and sighed in wordless resignation. Being the Avatar was already a life forged with challenges and failures, but when faced with the dilemma of not being able to bend…I was incapable of thinking clearly enough to find an answer.

"The world is a curious and changing place, Lyra, and your aid is required to ensure that change is for the better."

I rose from my seat on the cliff's lip and fell into step with the wizard as he began to walk back to the House of Elrond. "I always quite liked you, you know," I informed him tenderly, "You were one of the first people that could see me- you and Lady Galadriel. You help people- more than I ever could in my lifetime…perhaps it's your way of compensating for all the meddling." We shared a wry grin, but I did not fail to notice that Gandalf's cheeks were tinged with a light pink and that he looked suddenly sheepish. I laughed heartily at that and clapped him on the back. "Never cease your meddling," I soothed.

"It's decided then," Gandalf chuckled, "It will be beneficial for the good of the quest."

"I would think that Thorin would have voice in your decision, Gandalf," I chided, "Particularly since he cares little for a dragon-lover, I am sure."

"You best convince him otherwise," Gandalf quipped brusquely.


	3. Chapter 3

"Good night, Gandalf," I sighed, and went on my way. I walked down to the pool I had landed in upon my arrival to Middle-Earth. I gazed longingly into the limpid water- desperate for a rejuvenating reprieve from the heavy summer air. I cast my eyes about, and when I saw no one near I began to peel away the clothes garbing my person until I wore only my fitted underclothes. I laughed as I sprinted down the stairs, the sound carrying in the silence, and then smoothly dove into the water.

The bottom of the pool was lined with smooth stones that seamlessly ran into the river's bed. I swam to the floor, and the backs of my fingers brushed against something loose. I sifted through until I came across a bead that gleamed like moonlight in the water. I floated unhurriedly to the surface, and smiled aimlessly at the clear twilight. There was magic here- it ran in an endless current through the water about me. I brought the bead up for further inspection, and saw that it was carved with runes. _Fidelity. Love. Faith._ It was a courting bead…from a bygone age. I padded over to the steps until I could stand on my own feet, and then swiftly fastened the bead to a strand of my unbound hair.

A grand tree was rooted, parallel to the narrow path that ran overhead, and so I trotted up to the trunk. I climbed up the steep incline, higher and higher, until I reach an overhanging branch above the pool. With well-versed movements, I let my feet come out from beneath me and hooked my knees around the limb to catch myself. My impish laugh rang across the water as I once again dropped, and then flipped through the air before I hit the water.

"You return to the place that nearly killed you?"

I spun around clumsily through the water, and saw Thorin watching me from the corridor that led to the pool. "Why should I fear the place that brought me here?" I countered, brow quirked. I swam to the pool's edge and looked up at the dwarf-prince intently. I was intrigued by the bead he had fastened to the few plaits he had in his long hair- akin to the one I possessed now.

"What a strange creature," he mused, the corner of his lips quirked.

I rose up from the water, and bent over to wring out my dripping hair. A fierce blush blossomed across my face when I realise Thorin had yet to look away. "Turn around!" I shrieked, and scrambled to put my discarded clothes back on.

"The members of my company ask after you," Thorin noted, keeping his back to me.

"Is that so?"

"You seem to amuse them," he grunted.

"Oh." I slowly went up the stairs, and Thorin wordlessly followed me. It was not hard to find the dwarves, their raucous voices carried far throughout the last Homely House East of the Sea. I smiled to myself, grateful to find a source of good cheer so far from home.

"Have you forgotten?" Lord Elrond's voice from a short distance gave me pause, "A strain of madness runs deep in that family…his grandfather lost his mind- his father succumbed to the same sickness. Can you swear Thorin Oakenshield will not also fall?"

Bilbo stood at the first landing, and- and Thorin was just behind him. I could see the well-hidden pain, but more than that- I could see the fear of Lord Elrond's words being true in the dwarf-prince's eyes. I hastened down the stairs, and firmly took hold of Thorin's hand, startling him out of whatever thought held him fast. "Come with me," I urged faintly, guiding him along backwards so that I faced him.

"Where are you taking me?" Thorin demanded warily.

"Trust me," I soothed, and led him further away from the brutal, honest words of an elf-lord. "It has been my favourite place," I explained softly as I stopped both of us, "I would visit this place often."

"And why is that?" Thorin growled, eying the view of the House of Elrond with conspicuous loathing.

"That is because you fail to see what you are looking at," I amended, "Mind your head." At his look of alarm, a broad grin broke out on my face as I swung my leg out to connect with the back of his knees. He fell the ground; I dropped unceremoniously on my back next to him. "Can you feel it, too?" I asked sheepishly, but smiled serenely to myself as my fingertips dug into the loose soil about us. "Have you ever felt such pure soil as this?"

"I thought dwarves were the ones who felt such things," Thorin noted, latently astonished.

"Lord Elrond is mistaken, you know."

"What would you know of it, girl?"

"I have seen a man consumed by madness," I answered, thinking of the last time I had come across King Thror, "And you are not him. You are an honourable man, Thorin Oakenshield, and you sacrifice much for the happiness of your people."

"Wise words from a girl I had to save from drowning," he remarked wryly, lips quirked in a teasing smirk.

I shot him a halfhearted chiding glare, but the action was belied by my pouting lips. I scooped up a handful of earth, and then sat upright. With my free hand, I took hold of the back of Thorin's; I guided it to turn palm upwards, ignoring his stern expression, and deposited the soil into his cupped palm. "A handful of peace," I trilled lowly, as I dragged my thumb back and forth across his rough knuckles. I wordlessly marveled at the difference in size to mine…how rough and scarred they were, too. I glanced up him from beneath my hair, and blushed under the intensity of his gaze.

"I must return to my kinsmen," he announced as he rose to his feet, and left without bidding farewell.

It was not until I sat alone on the cliff that I realised he had the earth I had given him still in hand.


	4. Chapter 4

The midsummer morning came swiftly, the air heavy with elf-song wishing the Company of Thorin Oakenshield good speed. I managed to mount a pony just as Gandalf and Thorin began to lead the company along the road to journey through the Misty Mountains. No one voiced question to my presence in their midst, so I assumed Gandalf had spoken with them.

"Lass!" Bofur greeted me jovially.

I raised my hand in wordless reply, and noticed the shrewd look Dwalin gave me. "Does my presence irk you, Master Dwarf?"

"The Wild is no place for gentle folk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves," Dwalin explained curtly.

"Don't mind him, Lyra!" Fili called from behind.

"Aye, Mister Dwalin thinks of everyone but himself as gentle folk!" Kili added.

"It matters little," I dismissed gently, "Master Dwalin will soon learn that I am neither gentle nor helpless." At that, I shot the surly dwarf a broad grin, and spurred my pony until she fell into step with Bofur's and Bilbo's.

"He doesn't like me much either," Bilbo muttered.

"He will…in time," Bofur promised, "They all will."

"What is your home like, Lady Lyra?"

"I am from a village deep in the Earth Kingdom amidst the Great Mountains…" By the middle of my regaling, I had the majority of the Company's attention. I felt disheartened at the remembrance of my home, and all that I left behind- but these strange folk around me had lost their home…and I wanted to help them gain it back.

"Incredible!" Dori remarked at the end of my tale, "Your magic-folk are much grander than our own Mister Gandalf!"

"I shall remind you, that you can find yourself another wizard," Gandalf grumbled.

"Oh, do not be so ill tempered," I chided the wizard warmly.

However, the gaiety would not last long. The Last Homely House was miles behind us, and we had climbed out of the valley long ago- yet we still climbed. The Misty Mountains were treacherous, more so than I had ever encountered in the past.

"You seem as though you have encountered these mountains before."

I jerked slightly at the sudden arrival of Thorin Oakenshield at my side, but quickly snuffed my surprise. "Once or twice…it seems so long ago," I explained, "In a time long forgotten."

The dwarf prince did not say anything to further the conversation- instead he rode beside me in stiff silence. He looked like thunder; he was formidable and wondrous to behold, and yet I felt as though he was not really beside me.

I flinched briefly as I jolted along the unexpected divot in the path, much to Thorin's latent amusement. I recalled a time when I could have moved the entire mountain we journeyed along; this cruel state left a bitter taste on my tongue, and I did my best to keep my expression neutral. I would regain my bending…in time.

"Your home reminds me of a dwarf settlement," Thorin mused suddenly.

"I suppose you are right," I agreed, slowly slightly surprised to discover that he had been listening, "My people love the earth better than we love ourselves."

All was well, until we found ourselves within the snares of a thunderstorm. The lightning lashed out at the mountain peaks far overhead and the earth beneath our feet rumbled with wrath and frustration. Thunder cracked like wet canvas being shaken by a giant. I looked up to the dark sky with a smile, my eyes drifting shut as raindrops landed on my face.

I glanced over my shoulder to look at Bilbo, and found the hobbit trembling beneath the hood of his cloak. He would flinch at every bolt that tore the heavens, unused to such things in the mild Shire. "Fear not, Bilbo!" I called out over the noise, "A storm never harmed those wise enough to respect it!"

Giant personages of stone arose from the mountains, and their sheer size and power stole my breath delightfully away. The stone-giants hurled boulders at one another, seeming to revel in the sport of the resounding cracks that rumbled through the valley. I laughed with them- envious of their gaiety. I pulled back the cowl of my cloak, and stepped out from under the overhanging rocks where the company sought shelter. The wind raked its wild fingers through my hair- threatening to wrench apart the plait that held my curls at bay, and my laughter was drowned out by the thunder and stone-giant's mischief.

"This won't do- we must find shelter!" Thorin bellowed, "If we do not get blown off, or drowned, or struck by lightning- we shall be picked up by some giant and kicked sky-high for a football!"

"Well, if you know anywhere better, take us there!" Gandalf snapped.

"Fili- Kili! Go look for a cave that can house everything," Thorin barked, "Lyra! Get out of the storm, you fool!"

I was hauled back under the cover of the overhanging rock by Dwalin, and I shivered beneath my soaked clothes. I grumbled incoherently to myself- if I had my bending I could have dried off everyone's clothes, created a proper shelter, and shown those giants how one properly played boulder ball. Gandalf gave me an exasperated look, but he chuckled when I flashed him a broad grin.

"Save me from your impish ways," the wizard chortled.

"Found one!" Kili crowed as he and his brother came back into view, "Plenty of room- although not too big and deep."

"Have you thoroughly explored it?" Gandalf wondered.

"Aye, caves in these mountains are seldom unoccupied," Thorin noted.

"Yes, yes," Fili assured the company, and led us along the path to the cave.

Óin and Glóin began to make a fire to dry out our wet clothes, but Gandalf would not hear of it. That caused a wave of murmurs to pass through the dwarves, but they did not further vocalise their protests. I ducked away to the back of the cave where the ponies were to peel off my own wet clothes. I shivered audibly when my chilled kin became exposed to the still air, and stiffened when I felt eyes upon me.

"Yes?" I asked without glancing over my shoulder, and dutifully kept my back to the person.


	5. Chapter 5

"I still cannot understand why you wish to journey with us," Thorin mused as he took a seat on one of the nooks of the cave floor.

"I do not know fully myself," I admitted with a faint chuckle, "Perhaps I merely wanted a tale of my own to tell when I return to my homeland."

"Did you live with dragons? Or was that a lie?"

"Aye, I did," I answered as pulled on a loose tunic, and then sat beside him.

"Why?"

"To grow and learn and overcome my greatest fear," I explained softly, "Though I did not succeed, I still learned much from Shelagh, Ephraim, and Thraa."

"Incredible," Thorin grunted, "The great worms in this world have much to learn from the kin native to your lands."

"Vengeance is a two-headed foe, Thorin Oakenshield, while you strike down one- the other is already killing you. Tread with great care."

"How can an imp such as you voice such knowledge?"

"Lived many lives filled with even more challenges," I snorted lightly, "I feel old at times…stretched thin by my duty to do right by my people…"

Thorin's eyes widened visibly as he regarded me intently. Neither of us broke the pensive silence that enveloped us; the others had got out their pipes and were blowing smoke rings for Gandalf to turn into different colours had them dancing up the roof of the cave to amuse them. The others dropped off into slumber, one after the other and left Thorin and me alone in the tumultuous darkness of the storm.

I slowly rose to my feet to stretch my aching limbs, and a frown pulled at my lips when my bare feet made contact with the cave floor. Something in the earth did not feel right, and I wished I could use my bending to take in every crack and corner of the cave. I sighed angrily and paced around in front of Thorin, whom I vaguely noted was watching my mannerisms curiously. I dropped low to the ground on my haunches and felt the earth with a questing hand, but came up short.

"Rest," Thorin grunted, "Your tired mind has addled you."

"The same could be said for you," I grumbled as I pulled the rest of my newly dried clothes, and returned to my seat beside Thorin. I shifted my body so that I rested against him slightly. "It's cold," I mumbled tersely when he tensed beneath me. My explanation did little to ease him, but I did not care.

We were jerked out of our slumbers by a loud yell echoing through the cave. Thorin lurched to his feet, unconsciously shoving me behind him as he did, just as a wide crack appeared at the back of the cave. "Wake up!" Thorin roared, but his warning came too late.

Goblins swarmed us, leaping out of the darkness like wraiths, and began to drag away everyone. I winced when three goblins took hold of me and wrenched me away from Thorin, who was surrounded by six of the foul creatures. The demons dragged us all behind the closing crack and into the darkness. We were shoved into a tight mass, herded down the winding path deep into the bowels of the mountain.

"Keep your head down," Dwalin growled, roughly shoving my hood over my head.

_Clap! Snap! [T]he black crack! _

_Grip, grab! Pinch, nab! _

_And down down to Goblin-town _

_You go, my lad! _

_Clash, crash! Crush, smash! _

_Hammer and togs! Knocker and gongs! _

_Pound, pound, far underground! _

_Ho, ho! [M]y lad! _

_[You go, my lad!]_

I clapped my hands over my ears as my spine tingled unpleasantly at the terrifying melody the goblins sang maliciously as they pressed us further into the darkness, and I cringed at the raucous the goblins shared with one another. We were brought to an elevated large, flat stone where a tremendous goblin sat on a crude throne. My blood ran cold when I saw each pillar of the aforementioned was crowned with a head of a different race…man, elf, dwarf, and goblin.

"Who are these miserable persons?" the goblin king demanded.

"Dwarves, your malevolence!"

"Dwarves?"

"We found them on the front porch."

"Search them!"

I did not think they would search my person, for I had nothing of value, but I was mistaken. They ripped back the cowl of my cloak, and clawed at my hair. I cried out and shoved away the creatures.

"_Vajaz, vajaz, vajaz!_" the goblins around me chanted.

"Oh ho, ho, ho!" the goblin king mused in a simper, "What is this? Hm? A maiden, indeed! Bring her to me!"

Thorin made to pull me away from the danger, but I shook my head vehemently and was relieved to see Óin and Dwalin drag him into the middle of the company's ranks…safely hidden away. "Get your hand off me!" I seethed, and threw one of the goblins over my shoulder and over the edge of the crude dais, where it fell- landing with a sickening crack and did not stir.

"She has spirit!" the goblin king wheezed, "Tell me, maiden, who are you- and what are you doing in these parts?"

"I am, and our purpose is, of little consequence," I dismissed coldly, and spat at the goblin's feet. My head snapped to the side from a nearby goblin striking me. My cheek burned, and I could feel the thin trails of blood trickle down my face from its foul claws, but I remained silent.

"Perhaps these rabble are your escort, hm? Tasked with protecting you, a princess, across the Wilds." An incoherent chatter rippled through the hordes of goblins at their leader's remark, and that furthered my unease.

I lifted my head and met the gargantuan goblin's gaze; my peridot eyes possessed something that amused him, for he seemed temporarily consumed in a horrible fit of laughter.

"Very well! If they will not talk- we'll make them squawk! Bring up the Manger- bring up the Bone Breaker! Start with her, let us see how long her companions can hold their resovle!"

"WAIT!"

"Well, well, look who it is…Thorin son of Thrain, son of Thror…King under the Mountain," the goblin king announced as he bowed mockingly before the dwarf, who had come forward to stand at my side. "But wait! I'm forgetting- you don't have a mountain…and you're not a king! So that makes you…nobody really."

The blow to Thorin's pride enraged me. I wrenched myself out of the goblins' grasps and strode towards the goblin king. "And yet without land or title, he surpasses you," I taunted, uncaring of his daunting size to my own person.

"_Kurv!_" the goblin king bellowed, and raised his sceptre to strike me.

"You will not touch her," Thorin snarled from behind clenched teeth, and he pulled me behind him by my arm.

The goblin king's attention was averted back to Thorin. "I know someone who would pay a pretty price for your head- just a head…nothing attached. Perhaps you know of whom I speak- an old enemy of yours. A pale Orc astride a white Warg," he explained with glee.

"Azog the Defiler was destroyed," Thorin argued vehemently, "He was slain in battle long ago!"

"So you think his defiling days are done, do you? Eheheheh," the goblin king chortled. He turned to a little cretin, who sat in a strange contraption, and ordered, "Send word to the Pale Orc- tell him that we have his prize."

"He has not explained this!" one of the goblins cried, throwing Orcrist at the goblin king's feet.

The latter howled in his rage, and a great clamour erupted around us. Goblins beat their shields in cacophonous time with their feet, gnashed their teeth, and howled. "Slash them- beat them! Bite them- cut off his head!" the goblin king shrieked.

"No!" I cried. I once again escaped my captors and threw myself over the prone Thorin. Our heads scuffed painfully together, but I still sought a fierce hold on the front of his tunic. If I could bend to keep him safe, then I would use my own life.

"What are you doing?!" Thorin yelled in my ear.

"Protecting what matters most!" I whispered frantically, "Thorin, I-"


	6. Chapter 6

A deafening crack thundered through the cavern and almost tore me away from Thorin. I held onto his vest with desperate fingers; I cried out when the goblins that soared overhead raked my body with their wicked claws. A shuddering breath burst from my cold lips as the haze of pain and adrenaline rolled over me, and my sleeves clung damply to my trembling arms as the blood began to fall. All the torches went out, and there was no light save for one from that gently swayed from side to side.

"Follow me- quickly!" Gandalf orders as he sheathed his sword.

Thorin hauled both of us to our feet, and took Orcrist from the unconscious goblin. One of his large hands gripped my wrist fiercely and dragged me behind him.

"Quickly! Quickly!" Gandalf barked impatiently, "Before the torches are relit!"

We hurried through the labyrinth of tunnels, and I breathed deeply when the harsh cries of the goblins grew faint. I winced when one of my arms brushed against the tunnel wall, only furthering the wound's aggravation.

Like wild cats in the night, the goblins sprang from the shadows to surround us once more. One raised its bent blade to strike Kili, whom was occupied in keeping his brother in sight. I wrenched my wrist out of Thorin's grasp and ducked through the company with a lethal grace. _Be the leaf…move through the air- propelled by outside forces._ I landed a flurry of punches along the creature's mottled, exposed side; the beast's sword arm went limp. I took hold of its head as it began to slump to the floor; my eyes dispassionately met Thorin's as I broke the goblin's neck. The sight of one of their own dead seemed to fuel the goblins into a frenzy; they leapt with self-preservation- intent on tipping the balance into their favour.

The dwarves of Erebor were magnificent to behold in battle. It had been years since I last fought at their side- when Thror wished to reclaim Moria. My awe was cut short when a crude axe came swinging at my neck. I dropped low to the ground, and rushed my opponent. I dislocated the already mangled kneecap and took the axe from them; I freed the head from its shoulders. I palmed the weapon in my hands, and concluded that it would serve its purpose for the time. I hacked away at the goblins beside my companions- a fierce wave of loyalty seemed to strengthen us all.

"We have but one chance- daylight! Follow me!" Gandalf cried over the fray.

I stumbled in the darkness, and found myself more afraid than that fateful when I was a child. This was the most vulnerable I had ever been in my life- and that truth terrified me. I was a being neither here nor there; I was two indecisive halves with one another. The din that followed us was beyond proper description- our enemy most adamant that we did not leave the mountains alive.

The setting sun against my face felt as if life had been breathed back into my haggard body. We followed a path that wound down the mountain slope that ran alongside a rocky wall. We sought protection amidst the low trees and underbrush that lay on the other side of the path.

"Are we all accounted?" Gandalf panted, "Thorin- two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen- and Lyra!" Gandalf looked at me wildly- it was then I realised I was covered in blood- then cast his eyes about and thundered, "Where is our Hobbit?!"

"Bilbo!" I called out, wildly casting my eyes about in search of him.

"Curse that Halfling- now he's lost?" Dwalin growled.

I spun around and bore down upon the large, ill-tempered dwarf. "You have no right to begrudge him, Dwalin son of Fundin!" I seethed, "No right!"

"I'll tell you what happened," Thorin voiced, "Master Baggins saw his chance and he took it!" The surly dwarf-prince shoved his way between Dwalin and me, and then continued, "He's thought nothing but his soft bed and warm hearth since first he stepped out of his door. We will not be seeing our Hobbit against- he is long gone."

I fixed my blazing eyes upon Thorin, and made to voice my argument as I angrily approached him when Bilbo suddenly stepped into view from behind one of the trees. "No, he isn't," the hobbit announced.

"Bilbo Baggins! I've never been so glad to see anyone in my life!" Gandalf exclaimed.

I shoved past Thorin to embrace Bilbo, and gave him a broad smile as I withdrew. He looked ill at the sight of my bloodied figure, especially since some of it stained his own self.

"Bilbo- we'd given you up!" Kili mused.

"How on earth did you get past the goblins?!" Fili wondered.

"Oh, just crept along, you know- very carefully and quietly. But I got stuck in the door, which was only open a crack, and I lost a lot of buttons."

"But…how?" Dori asked.

"Well, what does it matter? He's back," Gandalf dismissed.

"It matters," Thorin countered, "I want to know. Why did you come back?"

"I know you doubt me- I know you always have. And you're right- I often think of Bag End…I miss my books, and my armchair, an my garden. See, that's where I belong- that's home…and that's why I came back, because you don't have one- a home. It was taken from you…but I will help you take it back if I can," Bilbo explained softly, thumbs hooked in the pockets of his torn waistcoat.

Figures appearing on the crest of the mountain averted my gaze. My heart stilled at the tell-tale personage astride the white warg. Last I had seen him; he had beheaded Thror and branded his own name across the late dwarf-king's brow. "Gandalf!" I yelled, and pulled Bilbo with me as I back pedaled.

"Run! Run!" Gandalf bellowed, and led us further into the thin cluster of trees.


	7. Chapter 7

The wargs and orcs were soon upon us; they swept across the ground like a hurricane- unstoppable and monumental. Their eyes gleamed green in the moonlight whilst their riders were a limpid black. All around me, dwarves were scampering up the pines and I did not delay to follow suite. The tree's bark bit into my skin, scraping my palms as I swung up one branch to the other- ignoring the protests of my own wounds- as I sought to escape the snapping maws of the wargs beneath me. A cold trail of sweat clung to the length of my spine as I settled amidst the high limbs.

"Gundabad Wargs never venture this far south- unless set loose," I mumbled, recalling the strict border patrol the Rangers of the North performed to keep the foul beasts at bay. I could have earthbent the ground beneath our pursuer's feet; I could have airbent them off the very cliff side; I could have done so much…had I regained my bending. I was pulled from my thoughts by the limbs beneath me being ripped away by the ravenous wargs that all but smelt blood in the summer-night air. I could feel the tree groaning beneath the brutal assault.

"_Do you smell it? The scent of fear? I remember your father reeked of it, Thorin son of Thrain,_" Azog's haunting brogue cut through the air, and I shuddered at the fate that had befallen Thrain.

"It cannot be," Thorin groaned, eyes rooted upon the Pale Orc.

"_Those two are mine,_" Azog ordered, aiming his mace at Thorin and then sweeping it to me, "_She has interfered too long, the Master wants to her head._"

"The trees are giving way!" I called out frantically, "Make ready to jump!"

In a broken domino effect, the pine trees fell one after the other- making everyone scramble to find their feet, only to have to jump onto the next upright tree until we were all clustered in one pine that lay on the edge of the cliff.

Gandalf reached out for one of the pinecones and set it ablaze. The clever wizard hurled it down upon a warg- setting its pelt aflame. And that was only the beginning of the firestorm Gandalf conjured; flames of blue, red, green, and silver burst into sparks at the orcs and wargs below. The dwarves cheered in triumph at the victory over their hunters, but the sensation was untimely ripped from us. The lone pine tree could not bear the weight of our entire company, nor could it endure the greedy flames that hungrily lapped at its roots. With a might shudder, the tree fell until it was parallel with the ground far below us.

I cried out as the branch I was perched on broke off, and would have fallen had it not been for Thorin. He hauled me onto the base of the tree on the side opposite him; our hands gripped the other's forearms fiercely. The dwarf-prince looked around at his kin and comrades, and then slowly looked upon me. A strange light had taken hold in his flint-azure eyes, and that light scared me. "Thorin," I began hesitantly, only to grow panicked when he narrowed his eyes on Azog, "Thorin- Thorin! Look at me!" I lurched awkwardly forward to lean over the tree, and clumsily cupped the side of his face with a trembling hand.

Thorin tore away from my grasp, and determinedly rose to his feet. He looked Azog the Defiler in the eye without fear as he stepped off the tree onto solid ground. He grimaced as he raised Orcrist and held his legendary oak branch shield aloft, and then charged into battle. He sprinted through the fire that feasted all about him- having eyes only for the Pale Orc that awaited him. Something was horribly wrong- Azog did not move- he seemed to be patiently waiting. Just before Thorin was upon them, Azog spurred his mount into action.

Thorin was knocked flat to the ground by the warg as it leapt through the air. My fingers dug into the bark, desperate to find solid grip, and tried to heave myself onto the tree. It was futile. Azog turned about just as Thorin staggered back onto his feet; Thorin raised his shield in preparation for the oncoming strike, but he held it too low- it left his head brutally exposed. With a might swing and shuddering roar, Azog struck Thorin with his crude mace and brought the dwarf-prince once more to the ground.

My heart thundered in its resting place- desperate to escape the confines of my suddenly fragile chest- when I saw the warg bear down upon Thorin. My blood chilled and curdled at Thorin's cry as the beast's maw clamped down on him. Bilbo stood motionless at the base of the tree, eyes wide in horror.

"Go!" I urged the hobbit, and struggled to get on my feet. I grunted behind clenched teeth, and let out an incoherent cry when my grip began to slip.

Thorin brought the butt of Orcrist down on the warg's snout, causing the beast to fling him into a distant boulder. "_Bring me the Dwarf's head_," Azog said idly over his shoulder to one of his cretins. The latter dismounted and approached Thorin, who was struggling to take hold of his fallen blade. Just as the orc raised its blade from Thorin's neck- I realised a mighty truth.

The dwarf-prince that I always had a way of coming back to through times of peace and war, Thorin Oakenshield, was my anchor. The sensation that rocked through my shuddering chest was akin to when Thraa nearly brought down the mountain side years ago. A mighty gale whipped my hair about my head as I lifted myself away from the tree and onto the ground. Rava thrummed within me, causing that tell-tale glow from the Avatar State. I strode through the fray of dwarves, wargs, and orcs until I was between Azog and Thorin- the only feature giving away my calm countenance was the violent zephyr that whipped around me.

"_My Master thought he had rid himself of you._"

"You will not touch him," I whispered, a cacophonous myriad of voices from my past lives.


	8. Chapter 8

Azog laughed and raced his mace to strike me down; however, he ceased suddenly when the ground beneath his feet thundered and began to fall away. I dropped into the horse stance, and sent my clenched fists sweeping forward- one succinctly behind the other. Earth broke away from its kin and erupted up to become a jagged ridge; I sent the ridge thundering between my companions and the enemy. The latter yelped at the sudden show of supposed sorcery. I relaxed my hands, bent my elbows, and began to skim my feet on the ground.

The wind swirled and screamed in my ears as I conjured a mighty gale. My rage flared at the sight of Thorin's barely conscious figure; a savage cry rent itself out of my chest as I hurtled the tempestuous air towards the flames. The fire greedily fed from the feast presented- it billowed out at the terrified foe, eager to scald and scar any flesh that was so foolishly exposed. Azog roared in anger as he was separated from his prey. Giant eagles descended from all around, and plucked the company out of danger.

Thorin's body was lifted up with great care, but to my dismay his shield fell from his limp arm. I sprinted to it and held it fast to my chest as I searched the smoky skies for the eagle bearing the dwarf-prince. When I found it, I catapulted into a run; the edge of the cliff drew near, I slammed my heel into the awaiting earth, and let the rising pillar vault me onto the eagle's back.

An ill-timed smile flitted across my face as the edge's smooth feathers caressed my tired face. I glanced down at Thorin, who was clutched gently in the eagle's talons, and a deep frown pulled at my lips. I could see the wicked gleam of blood weeping from his wounds, and he had yet to stir.

"Thorin!" I called down to him. My bloodstained fingers dug into the eagle's feathers when I received no reply. "Please, fly with great haste!" I beseeched the eagle.

"It is a fair morning with little wind, element wielder, do not distress."

The eagles flew through the day until we came upon the Carrok, a mighty shard of stone located within the Great River of Wilderland. The eagle that bore Thorin and me placed the still dwarf-prince on the flat slab at Carrok's peak whilst I simultaneously slid off its back and fell to my knees at Thorin's side. My hand trembled violently as I brushed a bloody tendril of hair away from Thorin's bruised brow. "Thorin, wake up," I pleaded hoarsely.

"Who knew you could that! Ha ha!" Nori quipped foolishly.

"Thorin!" Gandalf cried out as he hurried to him.

"Give me water," I demanded, voice flat and faint.

Gandalf ran his hand over Thorin's still chest, and his brow furrowed.

"What do we do?"

"Give me water!" I roared, and felt myself slip back into the Avatar State. My companions took a wary step away from me as I twisted my hand in an intricate circuit to pull the water from the very air. I lulled the water to ebb over Thorin's chest, to slip through the broken links of his torn chainmail. My clenched fists snapped open, and went to hover over his heart. I worked until my own wounds began to bleed freely once more from the effort…the scarlet liquid dripped off my fingertips as they trembled. After I did all that I could, I wiped away the grime and dirt on his handsome face with tender care with the torn hem of my robe. "Come back, Thorin Oakenshield," I whispered lowly. I exhaled tremulously when Thorin's eyes fluttered beneath their lids. I fell back when the others rushed to Thorin's side and beheld the healed wounds in awe.

"The Halfling?" Thorin grunted as he was helped to his feet.

"It's all right," Gandalf assuaged, "Bilbo is here- he's quite safe."

"And Lyra?"

"Ah, our impossible girl!" Gandalf laughed faintly, "Your unexpected healer is here, too."

Thorin's eyes snapped to meet mine, and I suddenly felt very small and very tired. "I saw you wield earth and air as though they were your own hands," he murmured hoarsely.

"A tale for a later time," I dismissed tenderly, my limbs trembling from pain and exhaustion, "Thorin, I-"

Darkness took me.


	9. Chapter 9

I awoke to the sensation of being placed on the ground. I lurched upright, and made to lash out at the potential threat, but they caught my wrist gently in their large hand. "It's all right, Lyra, no further harm shall come unto you."

"Thorin Oakenshield," I panted.

"We have stopped to bathe," Thorin explained haltingly, "Do…Do you require-"

"-Help me up, I can manage the rest." I frowned at the heavy, suffocating bandages that ran down the entire lengths of my forearms and my right shoulder.

"You were badly wounded from the goblins."

"I know," I mused, "It is just strange to be burdened by bandages." I limped along the river's shore, and followed the wide curve that led to a deep pool away from the rowdy dwarves. I pulled away the bloodstained bandages, wincing when the linen clung to a partially dried wound.

"Are you sure that is wise-" Thorin began.

I shuddered audibly as I dunked my arms in the still chill water. The water hummed as I willed it to heal my angry wounds, and I smiled faintly at the tickling sensation of my skin knitting back together. I scrubbed away the dried blood that caked my arms with a grimace, and glanced at Thorin over my shoulder.

"Tell me how it is possible," he demanded softly.

"Long ago, the world was much different than yours and mine, spirits roamed the Wilds and people lived on giant lion turtle's backs in cities. The lion turtles sheltered and protected my ancestors, but soon we needed to hunt for food…and so, the lion turtles temporarily granted the hunting parties power over an element to fight off dark spirits."

"But one man changed my world. A humble man, Wan, accidently separated the Great Spirits of Light and Dark. In his quest to restore balance, he gained masteries over all four elements, and fused with the Light Spirit named Rava. And thus, the Avatar Cycle was created, to be a protector of balance and peace in a world at war. I am the fourteenth Avatar, and my predecessor was from the watertribe at the North Pole…I am told he was an even-tempered man."

"I can see why you lack it, then."

"Aye," I mused faintly, "But I am patient when it matters most."

"Would you show me?"

I rose to my feet and took a cleansing breath as I closed my eyes. I could see Thorin sitting on boulder near the shore; I could feel the earth bursting with life beneath my feet; I could sense the push and pull of the river at my side. I slid my foot across the ground, and then jerked my heel out. A pillar of earth erupted at Thorin's left, and I smiled at his astonished expression. I swept my arms out and dragged my fingers through the air, and sent a slithering tendril of water coursing around Thorin's arm. I banished the water with a sharp flick of my wrist, and then sent a playful zephyr shrieking with mirth through my hair. I cocked my hips to one side as my hands settled on them, and I impishly regarded Thorin.

I could see his mind a blur with ideas as his brow furrowed. He seemed unable to form any distinct conclusion, and so he resigned himself to silence. "You require another healing, Thorin," I announced gently, "To heal beneath the flesh."

"Will it render you unconscious again?"

"No," I answered, "I will not need to enter the Avatar State to heal you- I will be fine." I knelt before him and summoned a sphere or water to me. I hummed softly in time with the glowing water as I moulded it over Thorin's chest; the dwarf-prince tensed at the foreign sensation, but soon relaxed under the water's balm. My cheeks burned under Thorin's scrutiny as he watched me work, and my control over the water briefly faltered.

"You called yourself a protector of balance…"

"As is every Avatar's duty," I agreed faintly, and sent the water back to its kin. A loud bout of laughter sounded from around the crest of the river's shore- no doubt those dwarves were up to mischief, and most likely at dear Bilbo's expense. "You should rejoin your company, Thorin Oakenshield, and leave me to my thoughts. But wait…" I retrieved the almost forgotten oak shield Thorin proudly bore. "This was nearly left behind…that night…"

"Thank you," he murmured, "This shield means a great deal to me."

"It would be wise to use it properly next time, it was too low when you confronted the Pale Orc…guard the important things." At that, I tapped his forehead and then his heart with a light finger.

I waited until I was certain Thorin could no longer see me before I peeled away my soiled clothes and unbound my knotted hair. A gleam of silver amidst my ebony curls surprised me- I had not thought the bead would survive the goblin's harsh perusal of my person. I waded further into the river; the water soothed my hypersensitive, twitching muscles. I plunged beneath the surface and scrubbed my scalp; the sweat and grime being washed away was liberating, as if all this growing darkness that lurked in the shadows was being purged from my person.

When my head broke the surface I could hear the dwarves still, which caused me to smile. It was a beautiful thing- that they were able to find a little peace in our journey that was fraught with seemingly endless peril. They broke out in the same song Bofur had sung one of the nights the Company was in Rivendell. I swam to the shore, not drawing up to my feet until I was all but dragging myself to the shore, and expelled the water that clung to my skin. I hastily dawned on my underclothes, and then began the push and pull waterbending form.

"Oi! What's going on?" Kili exclaimed as the water level lessened all about them.

I swirled my hands about one another and leapt onto the wave; I thrust my hands forward and carried myself around the bend. I flew around the bend in the river atop a mighty wave that then crashed against the startled dwarves. I trilled a laugh and airbent myself into a nearby tree; however, my amusement was short lived when I realised they were all naked. Frantically, I covered my face with my hands and tried to hide my burning face.

"That's what the little imp gets!" Nori laughed.

"Ach- our clothes are soaked!" Gloin groaned.

"N-Not worry," I called out tremulously, and summoned the water away from the soaked linens. I sent the water back to rejoin the rest in the river.

"Why don't you come down, Lyra?" Fili inquired, feigning innocence.

"I am not coming down until I can believe that you are all properly dressed," I protested, hands still dutifully over my eyes. My remark caused several unnamable dwarves to chuckle, and for my blush to darken.

A collective series of splashes sounded from the opposite shore, followed by the occasional grunt or groan. I listened to the chirp of an idle meadowlark, and the song of the rustling pine. It felt like home.

"Lyra."

I resisted the initial reaction to uncover my eyes to look at Thorin. "Hm?" I hummed faintly in my throat, and still did not lower my hands.

A strong hand wrapped around my slim ankle, as if the circumference was no wider than my thumb in comparison to the dwarf's hand. The touch, however, was gentle- unassuming and pure in intent. "You can lower your hands now," Thorin went on, hand still upon my ankle, "I assure you, all is well…for the time being." His hand ran up the length of my calf before it broke away to reach up to take hold of my hand when it came into reach.


	10. Chapter 10

"I will hold you to that, Thorin Oakenshield, and you will suffer my wrath if you lie," I said in jest, and halfheartedly added, "You may let go- I assure you, I will not fail." I dropped from the low-hanging limb onto the ground in front of Thorin. "See? I am certain even Dwalin could not knock me down," I remarked.

"Now that would be something I would laugh at seeing- a little imp against the scourge of the Enemy."

"I will refrain from being insulted," I grumbled, and playfully shouldered past him. I stalked over to Gandalf's side, and watched him transform smoke rings into birds. My smile grew when the aforementioned became badgermoles and a playful fire ferret. "Thank you, Gandalf," I murmured, looping my arm through his and resting my head on the curve of his shoulder.

"It doesn't have to be only Bilbo's job to miss home," Gandalf said gently, "There's no shame in being homesick, Lyra."

"It's not about missing home- it's about not being able to help these people- to help my friends," I protested, "I want to help them, more than anything."

"And you will- and you already have, Lyra," the wizard assured me. He snuffed out his smoking pipe, and stashed it away in the pock of his robes.

"Gandalf, are you…are you a firebender?"

"What gave you that inclination, my dear?"

"When we were trapped in trees- you summoned fire."

"Ah, now that was merely a trick I learned years ago," Gandalf dismissed with a wave of his hand, "Think no more of it, for I cannot teach you."

"Gandalf," I murmured, "We cannot keep travelling like this- we need supplies before we reach the Greenwood."

"We shall stay in the only house that remains west of Mirkwood," Gandalf announced to the company.

"Friend or foe?" Thorin grumbled.

"Neither. He is very great person- you must all be very polite when I introduce you to him. Take care not to anger him, or heaven knows what will happen…he is quick to anger."

The only person that reminded me of Gandalf's description was Beorn. A large man who I had visited many days in my childhood, and had not in the recent years. He was gentle- when it came to the company of animals- but he possessed an unknown past.

At the company's further inquiries, Gandalf explained our potential guest, "If you must know more, his name is Beorn, and he is a skin-changer."

"A furrier- a man that calls rabbit conies, when he doesn't turn their skins into squirrels?" Bilbo asked me lowly.

"Good gracious, no, no, NO-NO! Don't be a fool, Mr. Baggins, if you can help it. Beorn changes his skin- sometimes he is a huge black bear, sometimes he is a great strong man with huge arms and a great beard. I cannot tell you more."

"He calls the ford the Carrok, for it is the only one of its kind near his home, and he knows it well. Some say that he descends from the great and ancient bears of the mountain before the giants came. Other, like myself, believe he is a man descended from the first men who lived before the goblins came into the hills out of the North. He, like Radagast, keeps to the company of animals- and he is not the sort of person to ask questions of prying nature," I told the eager dwarves, and shot several chiding looks.

"And how did you come by this?" Balin inquired.

"I would visit him as a child, he told me wonderful tales and taught how to ride a horse," I answered fondly.

"At any rate, he is under no enchantment but his own…come along, we still have a great length ahead before we reached Beorn's home," Gandalf dismissed and led us on.

I drew away from the group and dug my feet into the earth. I reveled in the thunder that rumbled beneath me as I summoned forth a current of earth to carry me ahead of my companions. "I am going to look ahead- to make sure none of the Enemy overtook us!" I called out in reassurance, and vanished from their sight. Nothing in the soil or air spoke of ill-intent as I journeyed across the Wilds. I brought my means of transport to an end, and ducked into the line of trees at a jog. Jagged indentations ran across the expanses of several trees, and as I ran my fingers over them- I realised that they were caused by claws. I drew back slightly, momentarily overcome in my apprehension, before I steeled myself. I lifted one foot high in the air, and then brought it crashing down against the ground. The vibrations traveled far around me, giving me the hypersensitive sight of seismic sight to take in the surrounding cluster of trees. Nothing amiss was present, and thus satisfied I made my hasty return to my comrades.

"Did ye see anything?" Dwalin demanded as I came sprinting into view, "Did anything see _you_?"

"No- there's… nothing," I panted, and gave Bifur an appreciative smile when he handed me his waterskin.

"That was incredible, Lyra," Ori mused.

"Twas nothing," I belied sheepishly, and wiped away the sweat that clung to the back of my neck. I held my wild mass of curls off of my neck and gave Bilbo a breathless smile before I took another generous pull from Bifur's waterskin. "Thank you," I murmured, and gave it back to him.

"_It was nothing_," the usually silent dwarf replied.

"It was something to me," I assured him.

"You speak Khuzdul?" Fili exclaimed.

"Why didn't ye tell us?" Glóin added.

"It's hard to explain…I cannot speak the languages of this land, but I can understand them."

"_I will teach you how to speak it_," Bifur announced happily, the metal shaft of the axe in his head glinting in the sunlight.

"I would like that very much."

The further we walked, the hotter it became. We would huddle beneath the shelter of trees to escape the summer sun; at the aforementioned periods of repose, I could hear poor Bilbo's disgruntled stomach. The times we did rest, it was not long after that Gandalf would summon us all to press on.

"Just a little ways further," I said to Bilbo under my breath as we trekked onward.

"The dragons- tell me of the dragons you lived with," Bilbo panted.

"Their names were Ephraim, Shelagh, and Thraa. Ephraim glittered with the stars dotting the infinite darkness of his scales, and would tell me dragonlore as I fell asleep. Shelagh was patient with me for my shortcomings, the smallest of the three and emerald green. Thraa terrified me at first- and still does, in his own way…he is red like the skies just as the sun rises on the horizon- the brief, intense blood red before it fades to pink. He protected all of us with a fierce loyalty- he even considered me to be his kin."

"You speak fondly of them- you must miss them," Bilbo remarked.

"I do, but I couldn't stay with them forever…" I spoke in a half-truth.

"Look!" Óin shouted, pointing to the great patches of flowers we found ourselves immersed in.

I smiled at the sight, and breathed deeply. The scent of honey from the wide stretches of clover gently assailed my senses. The cockscomb clover melted into purple and then back again; the sight of the unblemished, lively earth in the midst of such tempest was like a balm. "His bees!" I announced gaily.

"If one stung me," Bilbo worried, "I should swell up as big again as I am!"

"They won't harm you unless you have warranted their wrath," I mused, chuckling faintly as one flew languidly past me. The drones were larger than the size of Dwalin's thumb, even, and their bands of yellow shone like the fiery gold in the forges of Erebor.

"We are getting near- we are on the edge of his bee-pastures," Gandalf announced, which caused a wave of good cheer to settle in us all.


	11. Chapter 11

After a time, the company came to a daunting wooden gate amidst a thorn-hedge so thick one could not see the light on the other side. I lifted myself off the ground by a steady jet of air to peer over the thicket of thorns. Inside the perimeter, I saw a garden and a group of peculiar buildings.

"Lyra! Get down!" Gandald chided, huffing in irritation as he tugged on my ankle.

I dropped down with a smug grin before I took a seat on a nearby boulder. "Only because you didn't think of it first," I remarked softly in good nature.

"You had better wait here," Gandalf advised the dwarves, "Come in pairs at my whistle with five minutes between each pair. Come, Mr. Baggins and Lyra!" He motioned for us to fall in step with him with an impatient jerk of his staff. Bilbo and I followed Gandalf into a courtyard where we came across some magnificent ponies. The animals looked at us intently before they galloped to the great house. "They have gone to tell him of the arrival of strangers," Gandalf explained at my perplexed expression.

I could sense the skin-changer in the earth before I physically saw him. He was formidable, and I could easily picture him as a hulking earthbender. Beorn was a huge man with a thick, black beard and hair; he wore a wool tunic that left his massive arms and legs- both knotted with muscle- bare.

"They don't look dangerous! You can be off!" the skin-changer laughed as he was leaning on a large axe. He set his axe aside and came up to tower above the three of us. When his eyes fell upon me, I did my best to seem undaunted by squaring my shoulders and meeting his gaze as level as I could. A light smirk quirked the corner of his lips in his amusement at my action before he looked warily at Gandalf. "Who are you, and what do you want?" he demanded.

"I am Gandalf," the wizard answered simply.

"Never heard of him- and what's this little fellow?"

"That is Master Baggins, a hobbit of good family and unimpeachable reputation." Gandalf supplied in the disconcerted Bilbo's stead.

"What about the woman?"

"I am Lyra of the Earth Kingdom," I answered smoothly, and then added fondly, "You might also remember me as the little girl you would tell stories to, and who you taught to ride a horse…you would give me honeycomb to suck on…"

"Are you indeed? Still a small thing if you are who you claim to be," Beorn chuckled faintly, "And she was such an imp of a girl last she came…can't quite recall how long ago that was…" His eyes twinkled just so until he once again returned his attention to Gandalf. "Now I know who you three are, or who you say you are. What do you want?"

Gandalf began the tale of our journey, making sure to mention our latest encounter with the goblins of the Misty Mountains. I breathed in the heady air and felt the vibrations of various animals Beorn cared for. My brow furrowed at the fumbling steps of a clearly wounded foal; I looked around at those who had joined us whilst Gandalf continued to regale Beorn. I silently made my departure, and went in search of the foal. I passed Beorn's bee hives with great care, hyperaware of the ceaseless work of the drones. I followed the erratic vibrations through the thick grove of trees, and found the foal stumbling through the thicket. At my arrival, the youngling wheeled about and let out a shrill cry as it eyed me warily.

"Easy, easy," I cooed warmly, and ceased my approach. I saw the cause of the foal's injury- it was a large thorn, from the hedge marking the boundary of Beorn's home, deeply embedded in the flank. Every jerking movement caused the foal further pain, which in turn set the babe even more on edge.

I slowly knelt on the ground, open hands resting on my thighs, and waited. Whilst I did, I went through the breathing exercises Ephraim had taught me what felt like a lifetime ago, my steady exhales marking the otherwise calm air. _In order to lead another, one must first guide themself_; that was what Beorn had told me at the beginning of my riding lessons. The foal began to mimic my breathing, and began to calm down in turn. I took the opportunity to meditate and open my chakras to the small piece of the world around me; I rustled with the wind-stirred grass, I flew with the humming bees. I was drawn away from my pastoral synchronisation by the brushing of a velvety, slightly whiskered muzzle on my brow. I opened my eyes to calmly meet the foal's, and smiled at the tranquil shade of amber the aforementioned possessed. "Hello again," I whispered, and nudged my head against the inquisitive muzzled still ghosting across my face.

The foal snorted as I rose to my feet, but did not draw away. I chuckled to myself at the insatiable curiosity that sparked in those amber eyes- for I had the same desire as a child. The foal limped closer to me, and bumped its head against my arm. I briefly threaded my fingers through its short mane, and combed along the expanse of neck.

"Let's fix that leg, shall we?" I mused warmly, an examined the embedded thorn. It would be less stressful on the foal if I were to remove the large obtrusion by water- for a more, painless extraction. I summoned water slowly from the nearby pool, and then molded the water over the affected area. "Sh sh, easy," I cooed when the foal nickered nervously and sidled away, "I am going to make it better, little one, I promise," I drew my hand back, bringing my fingers together to form a steeple over my palm. The thorn dislodged itself from the foal's leg, and I quickly wiled the water to heal the open wound. The foal bobbed its head nervously, but stilled when I placed a tender hand on its nose. The steady crash of warm air against my palm sent tingling jolts up the length of my arm, and I rubbed my face into the foal's downy coat.

"There, almost finished," I murmured, and watched at the wound sealed shut. I banished the water, and laughed heartily at the foal as it took off in a prancing trot. "See, little one? Good as new!" I called after the frolicking foal.

"That one!" Beorn boomed, thoroughly startling me, "That little person, I know- little Lyra. If she is part of your company, Oakenshield, I welcome you into my home!"

"Well done, my dear," Gandalf mused wryly, as he wrapped an arm around my shoulder.

"But, Gandalf…" I sighed, "Oh never mind."

I sat next to Thorin and Bofur at the dinner table, fascinated by the ability Beorn's animals had to serve us our meal. The skin-changer sat at the head of the table, and watched me idly from over the lip of his goblet.

"Don't worry yourself, lass," Balin assured me from across the table, "I think Beorn is fascinated by your remarkable affinity- as we all are, really."

I gave him a grateful smile, and then resumed tucking into my supper. The meal was one we all had not had since we departed from Rivendell; the torchlight danced across all our faces, and the sight of the flame-lit faces of my friends caused me to stiffen.

"Lyra?" Thorin murmured, eyes narrowed.

"I'm fine," I lied hastily, and dropped my gaze to my clammy, clenched hands on my lap.

"What troubles you?" the dwarf prince insisted.

"A memory- that is all," I dismissed.


	12. Chapter 12

"Little one," Beorn called out to me, "Do you know any dances from your land?"

"My village dances would up-end even a house as mighty as yours," I mused.

"I recall you almost did when you were a wee foal of a person yourself," he remarked wryly, earning a chuckle from the both of us, "I believe you wanted to teach me something for a change."

"But I do have something that comes to mind," I rose from my seat, and gently murmured my request in Bofur's ear. I took a cleansing breath and summoned a mighty tendril of water from the pool. I brought the head of the surge within arm's distance, and then began to form my creation.

A pliant layer of ice formed like a skin over the remaining water, and with a tracing finger I created an eruption of scintillating scales that rustled down the body. I stood before my creation and stretched out my hand to touch the beginnings of its face. The effect was immediate. The head broadened and took shape- mighty spines elongated from the crest of the skull- teeth like wicked sabers took form, followed by a rolling, forked tongue. Indentations along the muzzle gave the appearance of a bone chilling snarl, and I smiled at the replication of one of my beloved mentors. He was magnificent.

"Hello, Thraa," I murmured, uncaring that the actual Thraa was worlds away…nothing more than scattered bones to the four corner of my world and powdered scales untimely stolen away. The ice dragon opened its maw, and then I willed it to bow as I did in turn. Thraa wound about me in a wide circle as I began to dance in the allotted space; our bodies thrummed with the heady notes of Bofur's flute, and I urged Thraa into action. Thraa was beside me, going through every motion alongside me with ease. I danced about the great hall oblivious to my companions or Beorn. Having a tangible piece of the life I left behind felt like a balm- dancing this bending from brought me back to the days I lived alongside the three dragons I now called family. At the end of the song, I spun on the ball of my one foot and the ice Thraa wound about me, making me vanish from our audience's sight. I thrust both hands above my head and sent Thraa snaking up into the air. His coils shielding me unwound, giving my audience slivers of my person to see in the midst of the strange dragon. With a flick of my hand, Thraa opened his jaws and let loose a mighty torrent of water in mimicry of the real Thraa's mighty flame. I moved my hands in a sweeping arch, and sent the water-remains of the mighty ice dragon back to the pool.

"Farewell, old friend," I whispered, gazing into the empty doorway after the dispelled drake.

"Lyra! That was amazing!" I heard Kili and Fili exclaimed over the applause.

I turned to face them, my cheeks flushed and my muscles twitching sporadically from the exertion. I stumbled to my knees when I made to walk back to the table only to catch the leg of a bench with my foot.

"Steady on!" Beorn chided as Ori and Dori pulled me to my feet. The two dwarves guided me back to my seat, and Óin looked at from across the table.

"Drink some water, lass," the healer concluded, and poured m a cup of the aforementioned.

"What was that called?" Ori asked.

"I do not know- Ephraim only called it the Dance," I answered, still a bit breathless.

"Did you say that was Thraa? He's absolutely terrifying!" Bilbo laughed nervously.

Beorn drew the attention away from me- fortunately- by telling tales of the wild lands that took up the east side of the mountains. A chill ran down my spine when he mentioned the dark transformation of the Greenwood, which he said the huntsmen called Mirkwood. In time, the dwarves began to tell tales of their own to the skin-changer. But Beorn did not seem interested in the halls of Erebor- filled with silver, gold, and a great manner of jewels- and he began to pay little heed to the reminiscent dwarves. "I have lingered long enough," he announced, and rose to his feet. He went to the massive doors of the great hall, and then looked at us over his shoulder. "No harm shall befall you in this hall," he warned, "But should you stray outside before dawn, I cannot guarantee anything- save your peril." And with that, Beorn departed.

"You should rest, Lyra," Thorin muttered neutrally, "That display took more out of you than you care to admit."

"I think you are right," I murmured, eying the beds Beorn had his animals prepare for the company. Wordlessly, I rose from my seat and slipped under the covers of the bed tucked away in the shadows. As I breathed in the scent of the untainted earth that wafted from the gentle cotton covering the pillow, my eyelids grew heavy and then slowly closed.

_"Get in the cave, hatchling!" Thraa growled, smoke emitting from his nostrils as he saw the oncoming horde of bandits. _

_ "I can help!" I protested, shoving away Shelagh's insistent muzzle urging for me to come back into the protection of the cave. The first of the bandits came over the lip of the cliff, and I slammed my heel into the earth. The man fell back to crash at the roots of the mountain with a cry, and then moved no more. _

_ "Enough, Shelagh, get Lyra inside!" Thraa bellowed, and then released a blast of flame at the next wave of bandits. _

_ "Thraa!" I wailed, "Thraa! No!"_

I awoke to the feel of an errant curl being brushed off my face, and a cool cloth pressed against my viscid brow. "What?" I croaked.

"You were ill at ease," Thorin explained, "I thought it would be wise to wake you."

"Thank you…" I sat upright in the cot, and rubbed my face. I peeked up at the dwarf prince from beneath my tear-clustered lashes, and saw that he was watching me.

"That beast you conjured from the water…you called it by name."

"The dragon was crafted from my memory from one that I lived with. His name was Thraa."

"Was?"

"He was killed," I mumbled. I threaded my trembling hands together to cease their quaking, and exhaled tremulously. "It is considered the highest prize to slay a dragon- you gain the right to craft armour from their scales and to sell their bones to shamans and the like," I growled angrily, inwardly cursing at the barbarians. So much death- so many I failed to save. What could I do against such wanton hate?

"I am sorry."

"You need not lie for my benefit, Thorin Oakenshield, I know what dragons mean to you…or rather, how little they mean to you. To you, they are death and desolation."

"But my opinion of them does not matter at this time," Thorin remarked, "But yours. Thraa cared for you- let you live with him and his kin- to me… that seems like something."

"Perhaps," I remarked with a faint smile. I raked a hand through my sweaty curls. I lay back down, and it was then I became hyperaware of the trembling outside of Beorn's house. I deftly rolled onto my stomach out of bed and crouched low to the floor.

"What is it?" Thorin demanded softly.

I held up a silencing hand as I strained my ears to make sense of the strange vibrations tat resonated from just outside the door. "Badgermole?" I thought aloud before I quickly amended, "No, impossible." I rose into a horse stance and slammed my foot down. Even though my eyes were closed, I saw all. I saw Fili nudge Kili aside in their sleep; I saw Bilbo eying the door warily; but most of all, I saw the gargantuan sized bear trying to get in."Beorn," I murmured, "Beorn is outside. I am eternally grateful to not ever have encountered the skin changer in his animal form."

That caused Thorin to smile wryly in wordless agreement. He looked at me with an apprehensive awe that unsettled me. "Whatever happened to being able to withstand a mighty blow?" he remarked.

"Taking on Dwalin, and taking on Beorn are two completely different challenges," I shot back as I returned to the warmth of my bed, "And why are you not sleeping like the rest of the company?"

"Dark have been my dreams of late."

"As is the world of late," I added faintly, and nestled beneath the covers. My hair tickled my nose with each faint inhale, and my eyes darted to the smouldering embers of the fire in the centre of Beorn's hall. The occasional crackle reminded me of Ephraim as he slept- the fire in his belly would sputter, too- and that brought a warm smile to my face. "But I am sure you will not let your thoughts consume you now, Thorin Oakensield, you're stronger than you give credit to being," I yawned sagely. I nuzzled my face into the pillow and fell back asleep.


	13. Chapter 13

"Well, one thing is for certain- the goblins want all of your heads," Beorn concluded, "Especially yours, Oakenshield."

I rose groggily from my bed and sluggishly made my way to the table Beorn's animal had prepared for us.

"Ah, here she is!" Beorn boomed jovially, startling me out of hazy stupor, "Earthshaker! Lyra Earthshaker! That's the name the foul goblins, wargs, and orcs call you." The skin-changer seemed to be in high spirits; he set us all laughing until our sides hurt with his amusing tales.

"Yes, but where were you the past two nights and a day. Master Beorn?" Dori inquired.

"You must forgive my not taking your word in regards to your tale. If you lived so close to the edge of Mirkwood, you would take the word of no one. But now- I enjoy you all the more! Killed the Great Goblin, killed the Great Goblin, indeed!" Beorn chuckled. He regarded me intensely with a cryptic gleam in his eye before he addressed me, "What a strange creature you are, Lyra Earthshaker. Your name is known to many animals and wretched goblins- Azog thirsts for your blood almost as much as Oakenshield's, for you have stolen from him."

"How did you come by this information?" Thorin asked from the opposite head of the table.

"Come and see!" Beorn answered, and motioned for us to follow him outside. We followed him around the house, and at the display the skin-changer proudly presented my stomach churned. A goblin's head was mounted on a pike outside the gate, and a warg skin was nailed to a neighbouring tree. "I don't like dwarves," Beorn rumbled, suddenly dour, "They are greedy- and blind. Blind to those, whose lives they deem lesser than their own. But Orcs I hate more. And I like Lyra, she sees what other cannot- she cherishes life… even above her own."

At that, Gandalf seemed to think it wise to tell Beorn the entire story. The skin-changer was incredibly receptive and patient, occasionally looking to me to nod my head in affirmation of our tale. At the mention of the dragon, Smaug, Beorn's brow furrowed- but only just- yet he did not voice an interjection.

"I will provide you with ponies and a horse, so that you may journey to the forest with haste. Your enemy is ready to scour the Wilds in search of you- they have already begun. Though they will not follow you into Mirkwood."

The information troubled me- why would the Gundabad Orcs and Wargs not follow us into the forest? My mind drifted to my memories of the forest once called the Greenwood…long ago. Memories of a fair elleth, who was garbed in the finest of cloth, came into my mind's eye. Much had changed since I last ventured there- a sickness had taken root there- as it had in the elves that resided in the woods it seemed.

"Water is not easy to find once you enter the forest, nor food," Beorn explained, drawing me from my revere, "In the darkness, only the most savage of beasts reside. The only thing fit for food are nuts, and the season has not come. But above all and for the sake of your very lives- do not stray from the path for any reason. For if you do- you will never find it again."

The rest of the morning was spent in preparation for the next stretch of the journey to Erebor. All of our spirits were low in result of the struggles and dangers that seemed to avidly await us in the shadows. Even if we continued to evade the orcs that hunted us, and passed through the treacherous forest, a ravenous fire drake awaited us at our journey's end. I tucked away my water skin in my rucksack and went out into Beorn's bee pasture just outside his house. I found a grove amidst the trees, unoccupied save for myself, and knelt amongst the tall grass. "I ask that I may be granted the strength and courage to protect my friends from the dangers we will endure by your grace," I prayed faintly, "Please keep them from those who mean to bring them to harm."

"Why do you not pray for yourself?"

I tensed at Thorin's inadvertent intrusion, and kept back to him. My chest felt heavy with hyped air under his azure gaze.

"Lyra?" he pressed.

"Because my life has no value in this in comparison to any of yours," I murmured, stalwartly keeping my eyes forward. "To this world, I am nothing."

Thorin did not say anything in argument, but I could sense his displeasure exude from his personage and through the air. He stood there in silent vigil as I rose smoothly to my feet and practised advanced bending forms. I was rigid under his scrutiny, and soon grew vexed that my exercises did not yield the intended results due to the aforementioned.

"Lyra! Thorin!" Fili called from the house, "Beorn has had lunch prepared for us so that we may eat before we depart!"

I slowly made my way back to Beorn's home, and hesitantly brushed past Thorin. His hand shot out and roughly took hold of my upper arm. On impulse, I raised my free hand to strike at the unexpected attack, but soon regained control when I remembered that it was only Thorin. "Release me," I mumbled, and glanced at him from the corner of my eye. Those unnerving orbs of iron-azure burned me. I could not understand what he tried to tell me through that gaze- when his words clearly failed him to come to him. I pulled away from his grasp, cheeks ablaze with my embarrassed frustration, and hurried into Beorn's house.

"Lass, did you see Thorin out there?" Balin asked as I sat between him and Nori.

"He'll turn up," the latter commented, "Probably out walking."

I nervously tucked into my meal, and listened to the dwarves share their regular banter between one another. Thorin took his seat at Beorn's right a few minutes later, and he did not even look in my direction.

"_Eat_," Bifur urged softly from across the table.

"_Very well_," I sighed, smirking at how easy the Khuzdul reply fell from my lips. Bifur and I shared a smile, and then went back to what was probably the last proper meal we would have for an indefinite amount of time until we reached the end of our journey.

"The colt is enjoying its healed leg, Lyra," Beorn informed me, "I owe you a debt for-"

I held up my hand to stop him. "-No, there is nothing to owe. You have taken my friends and me in, and for that I will never be able to repay you," I explained faintly.

"What an odd creature you are, Lyra Earthshaker," Beorn rumbled in good nature, "More strange than when you were a wee thing."

I grinned broadly, and then finished the last of my meal. I rose from the table to gather up the few possessions I had, and then ducked outside. I cast my eyes to the east in search of Mirkwood, but the decaying forest was well beyond my sight.

"Something troubles you," Gandalf mused softly as he came to stand beside me.

"The Greenwood was a place of starlight and beauty last I roamed that part of the world, I do not know what brings it into ruin."

"Radagast has informed me of what might be the cause," the wizard remarked.

"You intend to leave us…when we reach the forest," I concluded faintly, brow furrowed.

"Only for a brief time, Lyra, I gave Thorin my promise that I would see this quest through."

"I wish you all speed, and my house is open to you, if you ever come back this way again," Beorn bid in farewell as we all mounted the steeds he was lending us.

Gandalf led us north- east as we rode through the borders of Beorn's land.

"But the Old Forest Road lies south-east of Beorn's house," I thought aloud.

"If you had paid attention at all during our meal- you would have heard Beorn's warning in concern to the aforementioned!" Gandalf scolded.

"The Road is often used by goblins and has become overgrown and disused on its western end," Nori explained patiently, "Plus, he said by going through the north, we will be closer to the Mountain once we go through the forest."

"Wargs run swifter than ponies," I noted darkly.

"Aye, but they won't expect us to be riding nearer to their stronghold," Óin assured me.

We rode hard wherever the ground allotted, all of us glancing sporadically over our shoulders in search of our hunters. Fortunately, the thought of the enemy grew faint as we journeyed further and further away from Beorn's home. My bones ached, unaccustomed to the arduous task of being in a saddle for such duration, but I kept my discomfort to myself.

The thought of pursuing goblins soon became distant, and the dwarves of Erebor began to sing and forget the dark forest that lay ahead. "There's an inn, there's a merry old inn beneath an old grey hill! And there they brew a beer so brown- the Man in the Moon himself came down one night to drink his fill.

"The ostler has a tipsy cat/ that plays a five-stringed fiddle;/ And up and down his runs his bow,/ Now squeaking high, now purring low,/ now sawing in the middle[…]

"[…]The Man in the Moon took another mug/ and rolled beneath his chair;/ And there he dozed and dreamed of ale,/ Till in the sky the stars were pale,/ and dawn was in the air[…]"

"[…]So the cat on the fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle,/ a jig that would wake the dead:/ he squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune,/ While the landlord shook the Man in the Moon:/ 'It's after three he said!' he said." I sang loudly. Twelve dwarves snapped their heads around to look at me in surprise. "What?" I demanded incredulously, "Why so surprised that I know the song? I've outdrank many a dwarf!"

Bifur chuckles heartily and gave me an encouraging wag of his finger. "_Well said_," he mumbled, and gave me a sly wink.

We rode until we could no longer see our way along the path, for the sun had dipped behind the mountains in the west. Gandalf had us settle behind a ridge of rock away from the path to shield us from the wind and unfriendly eyes.

"Hold on," I instructed. I slid my feet hard on the ground and brought my fists up, bent at the elbow. A corral for the ponies erected around them, startling the animals, and then with another motion I made a wall set diagonally to meet the crest of the outcrop above our heads to form a lean-to.

"Well done, Lyra!" Bilbo praised with a chuckle.

"Might as well make the night slightly bearable," I dismissed smoothly. I settled against one of the walls at the opening of our shelter. "Rest," I urged. I set my back to them, and gazed out at the endless night; my hands shot into the crust of the ground to amplify my sight for any threat. The stars were different than the constellations back home; there was no alignment that forged the first dragon, nor the great star that immortalised Avatar Wan.

There was evil in this world, a growing hatred that had strengthened its foothold since my last journey. Middle Earth was no longer the world I used to visit in my dreams. I unbound my hair, sighing faintly in relief at the fading tension at my temples, and took in the surrounding area. Rolling hills were lined in silver moonlight and it was hard to remember the horde of orcs that hunted us.

"I will take over," Thorin murmured as he came up to me.

"It has not been an entire watch," I argued faintly.

"But none have exerted the same as you."

"I am not tired-"

"-That's matter not, Lyra, go rest," Thorin concluded, drawing Orcrist from its sheath to rest it on his lap. I merely adjusted my place against the wall to rest my head against it. "Save me from your stubbornness," the dwarf prince grumbled, causing the corners of my lips to quirk, "You possess more of it than a dwarf."

"Like the same has never been said of you, Thorin Oakenshield."

We started before dawn, and I was thankful that Thorin had given me a respite. Gandalf led us with surety through the dark to the edge of Mirkwood; as the sun broke over the eastern horizon, the forest presented itself to our sight. I could see why the woodsmen had given the forest a new name, for it was no longer the Greenwood I had visited in my youth. It loomed ominous like an impenetrable smoke cloud ahead the wall of fire.

"That I do not like," Dwalin announced loudly.

"Nor I," Balin agreed, "But we must cross through it to reach the mountain in time."

The birdsong that wove through the air vanished the shorter the distance to the forest became; in fact, all signs of life had become inexistent- I was not the only one to become uneasy at the realization. By the afternoon, we had arrived at the warped gates of Mirkwood.

I dismounted and began to inspect the eaves of the mighty trees. A sickness lingered in the very air of the forest; an unknown evil had taken over the once beautiful trees. Once vibrant and evergreen, the tree's leaves were nearly black and their limbs violently gnarled as they fought with one another for the chill light. "A great malice breeds within these trees," I murmured, "And nothing pure dwells beneath the canopy. The forest has been poisoned by a brooding hatred."

"Lyra, come away!" Gandalf huffed. The wizard waited until I drew away from the gateway, and then gave me a peculiar look. "You must promise me two things, Lyra," he explained grimly, "First, that you will look after the company."

"On my life, I swear, you know that," I vowed.

Gandalf's eyes darted to the rustling trees as if he expected something to emerge from the depths. A solemn light took hold in his usually glittering eyes as he looked down at me once more. "Lyra, what I ask now of you is of the utmost importance…you must keep your bending a secret to anyone and everyone outside of the Company."

**AN: Hello, everyone, anyone out there? Not that I don't love all of you that have followed/favourited this story, but it's a bit disheartening to receive no feedback. Drop a line, mates!**


	14. Chapter 14

"Gandalf?"

"I fear that there may be some who would seek to take advantage of your abilities for ill, whether they mean the intent or not, and that cannot happen. Do you understand?" Gandalf pressed.

"I…I-"

"Lyra, do you understand?"

"Yes, Gandalf." I lowered my eyes to the ground as the troubling thought took root in my mind. What awaited me in those dark trees?

"Do not worry so, my dear," Gandalf murmured, cupping the side of my head, "All will be well- I am sure."

I flashed him a small, appreciative smile before I wandered over to the clear spring that lay near the forest's gate. The water became turbulent in reflection of my own tumultuous thoughts, and that only caused my apprehensions to strengthen in resolve. Who was the cause of Gandalf's unease, to have me invoke such a vow? Were the chances of an encounter with them likely?

"Lyra?"

"Hm?" I hummed, looking over my shoulder.

"Are you all right?" Bilbo inquired as he hesitantly sat beside me.

I slid off a canvas slipper and reached out my foot to brush my toes through the water. "Gandalf shared suspicions with me that have…me ill at ease," I mumbled. As the tip of my toes brushed the water's surface, a thick layer of ice crackled over its face. I hastily recoiled my foot and quickly thawed the spring back to its natural state.

"I am sure it can't be that bad," Bilbo remarked assuringly.

"Perhaps…" I looked back into the forest. Whether we were on the path or not, any confidence that we would have a safe passage eluded me.

"Can you feel it, too?"

"That the forest is sick? Aye," I answered. I looked at the dwarves of Erebor and saw that they were ill at ease, sporadically glancing over their shoulders at the unwelcoming Mirkwood. But what worried me most was Thorin; the dwarf prince was standing by himself as he faced the gnarled border of the forest. I softly walked up to stand beside him, slippers in hand, and then hesitantly reached out a hand to gently grasp his arm. "Thorin," I whispered.

"I would rather journey hundreds of leagues to go around this cursed place, but Durin's Day draws near," he rumbled, brow furrowed.

"We will make it through," I replied, "You have led us this far."

Thorin looked ready to protest, but something in m gaze kept him silent. He motioned for us to rejoin our comrades, and I saw Gandalf patiently waiting to receive everyone's attention.

"This is where I must leave you all, for a time," the wizard announced, "It is no use arguing- I have some pressing business in the south that can no longer go unchecked. We will meet again before all is over, and then again we may not."

I smiled wryly to myself at how the wandering wizard possessed the talent of almost always speaking in riddles. "Always causing mischief, Mithrandir," I remarked softly.

"One does try, my dear Lyra. Cheer up, Thorin and Company! Forget your cares until tomorrow morning!"

"Gandalf, a word before you depart," I said, and drew him away from the rest of our companions, "What draws you to the south?"

"Troubling news from reliable sources, Lyra, and a question that must be answered. I fear a terrible power is stirring in Dol Guldur."

"But the elf fortress was abandoned long ago," I argued softly, "What, or who, would be drawn there?"

A strange song wept from the forest, its keen sorrow caused me to clutch my head and fall to my knees. I felt my mind's eye being carried far away.

_A great eye. Lidless- wreathed in flame. The darkness awakens._

"Lyra!" Gandalf's sharp bellow pulled me away, "Lyra- answer me!"

_Pain. So much pain. Darkness and decay._ _Endless destruction._

"Lyra!" Thorin. His hand traced the length of my bowed, contorting spine.

My head jerked up, and I inhaled tremulously. "I-" I sputtered, "I am all right."

"Lyra," Gandalf pressed, "What is it? What did you see?"

"Gandalf, you must leave," I ground out behind clenched teeth as I slammed my fist against the earth. A thunderous roar echoed beneath all of us as the element heeded its master's call; Gandalf hurtled away on the horse loaned to him by Beorn. The bout of such raw power startled the dwarves- physically unsettling some. But I did not care if I frightened them- let them be as frightened as I was over the great eye that burned in my mind. I felt drained- as if something was being leeched from me.

"On your feet," Thorin urged, taking hold of my arm and hauled me to my feet. He looked me over, his lips tensing into a grim line at the sight of my ashen face. "Come with me," he grunted. He led me over to his bag, and began to dig through the contents. He pulled out a small purse, and pressed it into my hand.

"What am I to do with this?"

"Open it, put the contents in your hand," Thorin rumbled.

I upturned the contents of the purse into my palm, and discovered a shard of angelite. I ran my thumb over the smooth facet, and then turned it over several times. I felt the purity of the stone draw over the fiery eye that tried to seal itself in the recess of my mind until it disappeared in a veil of smoke. I looked up and gave the dwarf prince a faint smile, and murmured, "Thank you, Thorin." I dropped the stone back into the purse, and held it out for him to take back.

"It is a gift- keep it," he rumbled, and walked away to join Dwalin.

I made my way back to the Elven Gate, and ran a trembling hand over the ruined archway. _Rava…lead me. Guide me through this madness_.

"Lyra?"

"This forest bears great evil," I mumbled.

"We will best it," Thorin grunted.

And together, the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, turned our backs on the light and entered the seemingly eternal darkness of the forest.

The air was heavy, as if it had hands capable of pressing down upon us. The pathway would needlessly wind around the trunks; the light of the world behind us was nothing more than a small speck. We walked in single file along the path as we journeyed further into Mirkwood. My eyes grew accustomed to the dim light, but only enough that I could make out the trail several feet ahead of the Company. What unnerved me was the deep silence that seemed everlasting- even our own noises seemed painfully muted; the animals that resided in the forest vanished the further we delved.

The first night in the forest was the worst- the night fell upon us like a wraith driven from its cave- sudden and all at once. All slivers of light that stabbed through the canopy were snuffed out by the cloak of night. I could sense Bilbo waving his hand in front of his face in an attempt to see it. All that could be seen around us were the eyes- listless and bulbous- that gleamed yellow, red, or green. The bodiless eyes would circle about is, none ever daring to venture close.

"I will take first watch," I volunteered, and rose from the protective warmth of the company to take station at the head. "I may not know what you are, but I know you are there," I muttered coldly into the darkness, and sent a torrent of wind jetting ahead of me. The eyes vanished, but I knew they would return…beasts bred and born in the darkness breathed fear and yearned for its rancid nectar.

The fire Dori had started attracted more eyes, and horrid moths that were larger than my hand, the foul things would dance clumsily about the flames. I watched the few insects that ventured too close, who would be greedily snatched up by the flames. I found myself fixated by the macabre scene…how easy it was for fire to destroy- as if that were the sole purpose of the flickering blaze.

"First watch is over," Glóin grunted, "Get some sleep, lass."

I made my way across the cluster of slumbering dwarves, stumbling over a few in the process. The only available space was beside Thorin. I slowly settled beside him, and threaded my hands together to pillow my head. Thorin grunted in his sleep, and seemed to be waking up. "Sh sh," I soothed, gently plucking at the shriveled leaf that was trapped in his hair, "Sleep, Thorin Oakenshield." Without care of the consequence that may follow, I rested my hand over his larger one. With his scent curling over me, I fell asleep.


	15. Chapter 15

I awoke to find Thorin no longer beside me, but was wrapped in his great cloak. I sat up with a muffled groan and saw that the rest of the Company was waking. Hastily, I pulled the fur lined cloak off of my person and folded it, then placed the article beside Thorin's belongings.

"Lyra," Thorin greeted me as I rose to my feet, "Can you see anything?"

"No," I answered, "At first, my sight was out of focus, but now I see nothing. The forest has addled my senses."

"There's nothing to be done except press on," Balin remarked.

And we did- for days we traveled in the same fashion as the remaining time dwindled away. Our food had begun to run low, and the water was nearly gone.

"Look!" Nori cried, "Water!"

The running water was right at our feet- cleanly cutting the path in twain. The water was like liquid obsidian, nearly devoid of all reflective light, and churned angrily as if it knew we were attempting to cross its shores. If Beorn had not warned us of such a river, many of us would have ignorantly and greedily partaken- no matter what the colour. I walked up to the head of the company, and scanned for a way across; the bridge that once crowned the river was long ago taken by decay.

"Perhaps, lass, you could craft a bridge?" Balin suggested.

"An excellent thought," Bilbo concluded softly.

I swirled my arms about my head to summon forth the water needed from its kin. The water did not heed my call. I tried a simpler approach- freezing the water. And yet nothing happened. I pushed back the spark of panic that threatened to take hold. I slammed my foot down whilst shooting out a clenched fist in my foot's wake. Nothing. "What strange magic has befallen me?" I thought aloud. I opened my hands and attempted to craft an air sphere; the same result yielded…nothing- I could not bend.

"Lyra?" Thorin pressed.

"I don't understand," I mumbled tremulously, eying the Company wildly.

"There's a boat!" Bilbo called out suddenly, "Against the far bank- not above twelve yards!"

"Can we bring it to us with rope?" Nori inquired, already digging through his satchel for the aforementioned.

"Fili, come see if you can retrieve it," Thorin ordered.

After going through the ordeal of pulling the boat from the opposite shore with Fili's help, Thorin turned to face the company. "Lyra, Bilbo, Balin, you will come with me to cross first. That's as many as the boat will hold. It matters not who goes after, only that Dwalin and Bombur go last."

"There aren't any oars, how will we cross?" Bilbo asked.

"Give me another length of rope and another hook," Fili requested. He fastened the hook to the rope once more and threw it to the opposite bank. I saw the hook catch on the branches of a tree, it would stay rooted. "There!" the young dwarf concluded with an impish grin.

Thorin got into the boat, promptly followed by Balin and Bilbo, and then he turned to me. I dumbly looked at him as he held out his hand for me to take. I blinked owlishly at the hand, taking note of the ring inscribed with Dwarfish runes. "Lyra," Thorin urged in a throaty rumble, a smug light briefly taking root in his eye.

"My mind escaped me," I apologized, and put my hand in his. Fingers much larger than my own wrapped around my hand, the calloused tips scraping pleasantly across the back of my hand. The cool metal of his ring soothed my burning hand as the dwarf prince pulled me onto the small boat. He took place at the helm once I had settled, and began the task of pulling the boat and its passengers across the river. The vessel surged forward in latent, cacophonous draws of Thorin's reach, and the black water churned- angry that its quarry had eluded it.

"Lyra, is something wrong?" Bilbo whispered.

"The forest…" I mumbled, "…It's addled my mind. I cannot bend."

Bilbo's lips thinned and he eyed me worriedly. "Are you- Are you sick?" he inquired, casting a nervous glance over his shoulder at Thorin, whose head snapped to look over at the two of us when he heard Bilbo's inquiry.

"I'll be fine- once we are out of the forest."

"But what if we need you…and you can't- you know?"

"I can still fight," I assured him, all too loudly. I swung my leg over the lip of the boat as it scraped against the shore, and investigated the line of trees and underbrush. Something did not feel right- I felt as though we were being watched. I crouched low to the ground, crawling stealthily on the balls of my feet and upon my fingertips; I scraped my knuckles across the damp soil, vainly hoping that my seismic sense would manage to voice the slightest whisper to tell me of Mirkwood's secrets. My fingertips fell into a large indentation, and upon further inspection I realised it was a hoofprint. "Thorin!" I called out in warning.

A large stag thundered down the path out of the gloom, and charged the dwarves and Bilbo. One of its hooves clipped my shoulder, and I let out a keen cry when I heard the grinding pop of bone against its brethren. The dwarves scattered and rolled out of the way of the hart's sharp hooves as the animal made to jump the river. Thorin was the only one to keep his feet, I could blearily make out his form, and as the stag leapt through the air he took aim with his bow. The arrow screamed until it found its mark, and the stag stumbled. The animal fumbled into the shadows, and the forest grew silent. A proud smile curved Thorin's lips- the first smile he bore in days- but it was not to last.

"Bombur has fallen in! Bombur has fallen in!" Bilbo wailed.

We could only see the hood of his cloak above the water as we hurried to the riverbank. "Throw him a hook!" Thorin roared.

Dwalin did, and a sigh fell from all of us as Bombur's hand caught it. "Help me pull him out!" Dwalin growled, his arms tense from the strain.

One by one, we fell in and took hold of the rope to do our share. Pained tears trickled down my face as my injured shoulder screamed at me to cease such a task. I bit into my lip and passed off my muffled screams as huffs of exertion in my aid to haul Bombur from the enchanted river, the acrid taste of copper trickled into my mouth. With a final, collective, heave we pulled Bombur to shore.

"He's asleep!" Dori scoffed.

"The fat beggar," Nori added sourly.

All further curses to Bombur were left unvoiced as the sound of horns and the baying of dogs faintly sounded from within the forest. We huddled together like lost cubs as the only sounds made were that of the unseen hunt. No one dared to make a move, and in that silence my arm pulsated and throbbed with a vengeance. On the path ahead, a doe and her two fawns stepped out of the darkness, basked in the light of the stars. I knew spirits when I saw them, tears pooled in my eyes at the peace their presence gave me. Surely such beauty would not dwell in such tainted blackness. The doe regarded me curiously as if it could sense Rava within me. Kili, Ori, and Glóin leapt to their feet, and fired upon the spirits.

"Stop!" I bellowed, "You cannot hurt them!" None of the arrows found their mark, and the deer turned away to vanish into the trees once more. To my anger, the dwarves continued to let loose their arrows. "Fools!" I seethed, "What fools, the lot of you! How dare you?!" I was relieved- for a brief moment- when the dwarves had wasted the last of the arrows.

"Lyra!" Thorin took hold of my injured arm, and his brow furrowed when I shuddered violently in recoil and my face grew ashen. Thorin staggered away from me when I fell to my knees.

"You're hurt," Bilbo concluded, eying my asymmetrically sloping shoulders.

"Why can't you heal yourself like before?" Fili wondered.

"Aye, like you did with Uncle after the goblins," Kili added.

"I need water- but obviously, we have little. And a magic lies heavily in the air that has me addled."

Óin stepped in front of me and rumbled, "Then it is my duty to set ye right." He nodded to Bifur, who then settled down to hold me in place firmly. "This may hurt," he warned. Óin placed a hand at the curve of my shoulder that unnaturally jutted out while putting another in the crook where the joint met my neck on the opposite side for leverage. Without further ceremony, Óin pushed my shoulder forward- forcing the misaligned bone to fall back into place.

"_Orc spawn_!" I roared, and slammed my palm repeatedly on the ground beside me. Normally, such an act would result in a violent earthquake or at least a vault to crack the surface, but nothing happen- save for my palm to start burning in protest.

Dwalin bellowed heartily; Kili and Fili looked surprised; Bifur looked on proudly; Balin and Bilbo looked aghast; whereas the others, with the exception of Bombur and Thorin, followed Dwalin's lead. Thorin looked at me with a dim spark as he watched me squirm under Óin examination of his work, and Bombur slept on.

"Don't do anything rigorous," the healer concluded, "And it might be sore up to a fortnight."

"Thank you," I panted, and went to retrieve the bag I had dropped along the tree line. I cringed at the natural jostle of bending over, but said nothing.

"Were you going to tell us?" Bilbo asked.

"My only thought is getting out of this forest," I mumbled, and searched through my bag. Finding a leather thong, I quickly pulled my hair back into a coiled knot at the nape of my neck. Hesitantly, I rolled my shoulders, and save for the keen ache- I was satisfied with the results.

"We move on!" Thorin ordered. He, Dwalin, and Nori took their places at the makeshift stretcher the dwarves has assembled to carry Bombur. I hustled over to the only corner of the stretcher left.

"Lyra, are you sure…?" Fili asked hesitantly.

"I'm fine!" I snapped, and then sheepishly added, "Pretend I didn't shout." The four of us bent simultaneously and hefted the rotund dwarf off of the ground. My shoulder burned and protested at the effort required of me; the going was even slower, and the only one who had it easy was obviously the oblivious Bombur.

Darkness came swiftly, sooner than I anticipated, and we settled together in a cluster in the middle of the path. The eyes had returned, unnerving in their listless vigil, and I shuddered audibly at the sickening feeling that blossomed in my chest. _Click. Click._ What was that blood curdling sound? I rubbed gently at my burning shoulder, and swallowed back the lump in my throat.

"Lyra."


	16. Chapter 16

I turned my head to look at the dwarf prince over my shoulder. He eyed me intently before seeming to reach an unvoiced decision. He folded his arms and looked out at the circlet of shining eyes. "I do not think the Company will last much longer like this, Thorin," I confessed softly.

"You know nothing," Thorin spat.

"I know nothing," I repeated slowly, and then continued, "I wandered this forest before the elves first looked upon these trees. This place was home to pure and beautiful things- I bathed in the light of the sun and the stars. The air was full of song, and I wished I could merge the distance between here and Erebor. Thorin, this place was once full of life- we are low on food and water. We cannot continue on like this."

"Things change," Thorin dismissed.

"Aye," I agreed, "And it is our job to make sure it is for the better."

"What happened at the river?" Thorin pressed.

"I cannot bend," I admitted faintly, unable to meet his gaze, "For the first time since I left my home for the mountains to live with the dragons…"

"What?"

"I cannot bend!" I snapped. I rubbed my aching arms with my clammy hands; it was an ailment I could not remedy- I felt as if I would burst out of my own skin, perhaps then I would feel _some_ relief.

Thorin pulled me from my troublesome thoughts by hauling me to my feet, and then looked out once more into the blanket of infinite night. "It will come back," he spoke softly, "As it did before- you will find your strength again, Lyra."

"What if we are overtaken by the Enemy?"

"Then I will kill the Pale Orc- no longer will I wound him and let him crawl away. He dies."

"You will not succeed if you continue to fight the way you do," I remarked smoothly, meaning no offense.

"Why?" Thorin growled.

"You have great strength and an even greater heart, but Azog trumps you in size and equals you in strength. You must be the wiser warrior. Come this way," I urged, and pulled him away from the sleeping members of the Company, "Let me teach you the ways of my people."

"You are wounded-"

"I am fine," I assured him, and took my stance, "Attack me."

As expected of a dwarf- a son of Durin, no less- he charged at me without restraint. I held my ground until the last possible moment, and then latched onto his arm. I slid behind him and kicked him away from me- eyes grim as he stumbled forward. "Waterbenders use the energy of their opponents against them- Azog anticipated your aggressive approach. Remember how he waited, patient, for he knew you would do the work for him," I explained stiffly.

Thorin regarded me warily, and I could almost see the plan forming in his mind. He charged me, but this time his person was aware of possible counterattacks. I skipped backwards to evade his outstretched hands, and then spun on my heel. I sprinted at the closest tree, letting Thorin think he would overcome me, and then took several leaps up the tree's trunk. As my momentum began to fade, I kicked off and flipped backwards. I landed behind the startled Thorin with a muffled thud, and dug my forefinger's knuckle into his spine as though it were a knife

"Earthbenders use their surroundings to their own advantage. You must do the same," I instructed, and stepped away from him. Thorin was properly flustered at being so easily defeated- particularly to one with such stature as mine- he snarled at me. He charged, ravenous for the victory, and I ducked his attacks- one, then two, and three. I swept my foot along the ground, and Thorin landed harshly on his back. "Airbenders let themselves adapt to their enemies, and firebenders use their opponent's rage to cloud their judgement," I murmured, and waited for Thorin to get back on his feet, "Remember this, Thorin, and you will defeat the Pale Orc."

"What a strange creature you are, Lyra Earthshaker," Thorin panted, and took a seat at the skirts of the sleeping company.

I smiled at the moniker; it brought me back to Rivendell and our brief stay in Beorn's great hall, and then sat beside him. "Tell me of Erebor," I pleaded faintly, "I only saw the kingdom beneath the Lonely Mountain when _Durin the Deathless _first chiseled the settlement stone." I turned by body so that I could lean against the dwarf prince as he soothed my unease with tales of the greatest of the dwarf kingdoms.

"Halls shone with golden light…" Thorin explained, "Mighty statues of my forefathers were carved from jade and lined the great halls- you could hear the tune of dwarf song and the miner's pick axe almost anywhere you walked. In my youth, I learned of every stone and crack in that wondrous place, I made a promise then that I would defend my home…Lyra, I cannot wait to show you the Lonely Mountain…"

"What was that? I thought I saw a twinkle of light in the forest!" Balin called out from ahead.

We all cast our wild, starved eyes about- a distance away, it seemed the red flicker of torchlight shone out of the dark. At the identification of the one, more emerged at its side, and that rekindled hope in our empty chests. Like the fools Gandalf would have called us, we rushed to meet the possessor of the torches- uncaring if they were friend or foe. The lights were lost in the darkness briefly before they returned in front of us and to the left of the path.

"Two of you- go ahead of the Company and find out who holds those lights," Thorin ordered, never taking his eyes off of the torches that still danced to our left. To his anger, no one volunteered to venture from the path and run the risk of never returning.

"I could not count or describe all the wonderful things there were to eat and drink!" Bombur repeated, ranting one more to the company of the dream he had whilst still under the magic of the enchanted river.

"Thorin," I murmured, "Gandalf and Beorn told us to not stray from the path! Who knows how long we have wasted beneath these trees? We shouldn't chase the lights."

"Quiet!" Thorin snapped, waving me off with a curt jerk of his hand.

"We won't last much longer," Balin mused, "And we do not know how much forest is left to travel."

"Exactly!" I explained, "Surely, we only have a short distance to go…it would be foolish to delay any further!"

"Be silent!" Thorin growled, "We need food, or we will all perish."

And so, the Company of Thorin Oakenshield stepped off of the path and lost ourselves in the forest. We crept through the brush and peered from behind the protection of the mighty trunks into a recently crafted clearing. There were the wood elves of Mirkwood, all garbed in green and brown; a merry fire cracked and danced in the night air as the elves heartily celebrated with one another.

I emerged from my hiding place between Bofur and Ori, and stepped into the clearing. "Hail Kin-" I began, but the fire was snuffed out and I vaguely felt myself falling.


	17. Chapter 17

I awoke to the steady jostle of walking, and grew uneasy at the feeling hands hooked around the crook of my knees and my arms slung around someone's shoulders. "Easy, easy," Thorin rumbled lowly in the same manner as I had done with the foal at Beorn's when I tensed tighter than a drawn bowstring. I rested my forehead in the crook of his shoulders to hide my burning cheeks.

"What happened to me?"

"Elves cast a spell on you," the dwarf prince cursed, the sinew of his neck tensing. "You have been asleep for two days- by our reckoning…though one cannot be sure with no sight of the sun."

I pushed against him until he slowly set me back on my feet; I took several clumsy steps- only to crash into Glóin.

"Steady on!" the dwarf chuckled, keeping his hands on my shoulders until I was steady on my feet.

"Thank you, Glóin," I mumbled. I raked a hand through my oily hair, grimacing at the slight film left behind on my palm.

It was not much farther until the Company had to rest for the night. I volunteered to take first watch, being far from tired, and I settled into my post beside Thorin. "Thank you," I murmured lowly, "You did not need to carry me alone." Thorin only grunted in reply, and I found the corners of my lips threatening to curve into a smile. "Rest, Thorin Oakenshield," I cooed tenderly, "Your head is weary- let sleep take your burdens for a blissful while." I sidled closer to him until his head gently pressed against my thigh; my hand softly cupped his head, and my fingers curled to thread through his ebony mane. "I will tell you of my home," I began, "It lies at the roots of the mountains, nestled securely in the valley. The soil is soft beneath your feet, and yet you can feel the sure strength that seems to burst from deep below. As a child, I would nearly become dirt myself from the amount I accumulated on my person…the mines were the pride of my people, maybe a match of your kin's craftsmanship. I wish I could show it to you, Thorin…after you reclaim the Lonely Mountain."

When the dwarf prince did not respond, I glanced down to discover that Thorin Oakenshield had fallen asleep. The stern lines were smoothed away- only just- and it reminded me of the young crown prince I had followed faithfully since I was a little girl. When I had first seen him, the dwarf had frightened me with his ardent loyalty for his homeland and people- the fires of vengeance that burned fiercely within his heart. Time passed differently in my world, for he aged faster than I, but through the years- Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thror, enthralled me. And he had ever since.

"Rest," I whispered, "And regain your strength, Thorin Oakenshield."

"Is there no end to this infernal forest?!" Thorin bellowed into the canopy.

"We will find a way back to the path if we-" I began.

"-Enough of the niceties," Dwalin growled, "It's all ye have done all day."

"And what would you have me do then?" I demanded softly, "Need I remind you that the only reason the Company got this far was from the help of Gandalf and myself?"

"I don't see you helping us get out of this forest," the dour dwarf shot back.

"In case you have forgotten- I said we never should have left the path!" I retorted angrily. Dwalin snarled and charged me- so this was what Mirkwood had done to us, turned one against another like savage orcs. I ducked to avoid Dwalin's initial assault, but he was expecting it. He jabbed his fist encased by his knuckle dusters, aiming for the tender spot along the line of my jaw. I shot my hand out and ceased the motion of the aforementioned's hand entirely.

"See that? She stopped Dwalin," Fili exclaimed softly, and Kili whistled shrilly in reply.

"I do not yield to earth, nor will I cower beneath your brow beating, Dwalin son of Fundin," I ground out from behind clenched teeth, "And I refuse to fight you because you are my friend."

"The lights are back!" Kili called out softly, "There's a regular blaze of light not far away- hundreds of torches and many fires must have been lit suddenly!"

Dwalin and I set aside our argument for the time being as the Company collectively crouched low to the ground. Elf-song, carried by the wings of their notes, flitted through the trees gaily. Even I could not voice any protest, for the Company would not survive the forest if we did not seek refuge. From my travels, I had met and visited with the Woodland King of Mirkwood, Thranduil, when he was just an elleth. I doubt he would remember me entirely- if at all, but maybe he would somehow recall that I was a friend.

We came upon a feast full of mirth and song- just as Bombur had told us. Platters and bowls of food were passed all around the tables; the elves wore flowers in their fair hair and gems glittered in the torchlight. At the head of the largest table sat the woodland king with a crown of golden leaves, oak, and beech upon his golden head. Thorin stepped out of the tree line and into their midst.

Silence fell- out went all the lights- and black smoke consumed all the fires. The smoke burned my eyes, and I clumsily searched for Thorin in the darkness. "Thorin!" I called out between coughs, "Thorin, answer me!"

Strong hands latched onto both of my arms and began to drag me away. "Release her!" Thorin roared, his voice faint over the din of our companions, "Get away from her!"

"_We will take the woman with us, if he will not part with her_."

Ropes bound my hands together and I was marched further into the darkness. The cries of our friends calling our names grew faint, and I feared I would never see them again. "Thorin?" I called out tremulously.

Another bound set of hands awkwardly grasped mine to the best of their ability, only managing to take hold of my outermost fingers. The calloused grip could only belong to Thorin- never any of these wood elves. "I am here," Thorin murmured, "Stay close to me."

It was many miles the wood elves dragged us until we reached a cave deep within Mirkwood. It was the hall of Thranduil- and the dungeons for his prisoners. As we passed through the mighty stone gates, my eyes beheld the Woodland Realm in its fallen splendor. It was a pitiful mimicry of the Golden Wood stewarded by Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn. But a sickness had hold of the hall, just as it did the surrounding forest.

Thranduil sat upon an arching throne hewn from beech; he was drape in a position he intended to be viewed as well-versed authority, but he fell short of the desired effect. His cerulean eyes barely gave me notice as he realised the identity of the dwarf beside me. "Why did you and your folk three times try to attack my people?" Thranduil demanded coolly.

"We did not attack them," Thorin growled behind clenched teeth, "We were starving."

"What is your excuse for trespassing in my realm?"

Thorin did not answer, only levelly meeting the king's cold stare. I inched closer to him, wordlessly giving him my support.

"What would bring Thorin Oakenshield," Thranduil thought aloud mockingly, "From his exile so close to the Lonely Mountain?" The elf king rose from his throne to circle about us like the Unagi. He stopped his vexing circuits when he drew close enough to Thorin that their shoulders barely touched. "Some may imagine a noble quest is at hand. A quest to reclaim a homeland…and slay a dragon. I, myself, suspect a more prosaic motive- attempted burglary, or something of that ilk. You have found a way in," he stated, leaning down in a display of condescending intimidation. Thorin did not so much as glance at the elf, but looked solely upon me. "You seek that which would bestow upon you the right to rule…the King's Jewel, the Arkenstone. It is precious to you beyond measure. I understand that. There are gems in the mountain that I too desire. White gems of pure starlight…"

I trembled from the effect to keep silent. Thranduil had one weakness- if one could even call it that- a weakness for treasure and precious things. Even though his hoard was rich, it was not enough for him. Thranduil desired his vast wealth to overcome the treasures of the elf lords of old; I believed he childishly sought to surpass the wealth of Erebor.

"…I offer you my help," Thranduil murmured in false kindness, bowing his head in show of his infinite _lack_ of humility.

The corners of Thorin's lips quirked wryly as he replied, "I am listening."

"I will let you go, if you but return what is mine."

"A favour for a favour," Thorin concluded.

"You have my word, one king to another…"

I grew tense at the beguiling manner of the elf king; he knew of Thorin's great desire to be recognised as the rightful King under the Mountain. "Thorin," I mumbled in apprehension, taking hold of his hand.

"I would not trust Thranduil," Thorin spat, "The great king, to honour his word- should the end of days be upon us! You- lack all honour!" Thorin bore angrily upon the astonished elf king, who beheld the dwarf prince with wide eyes as he stepped back. "I have seen how you treat your friends! We came to you once- starving, homeless, seeking your help. But you turned your back! You turned away from the suffering of my people, and the inferno that destroyed us! _May you die in dragon fire_!"

Thranduil bore down upon Thorin in turn, eyes blazing. "Do not talk to me of dragon fire. I know of its wrath and ruin…" A spell of concealment fell away from the elf king's seemingly flawless visage; half of his face was little more than tender, raw sinew and bone- the flesh greedily consumed by a drake's flame. His left eye was clouded, forever lost to the darkness. "I have faced the great serpents of the North," the elf king groaned, pulling away from Thorin and the spell returned his face to its ethereal glory. "I warned your grandfather what his greed would summon, but he would not listen…you are just like him," Thranduil spat, as his guards roughly took hold of Thorin, "Stay here if you will- and rot. A hundred years is a mere blink in the life of an elf. I'm patient- I can wait!"

"Unhand him!" I seethed, and felt myself teetering on the precipice of the Avatar State. My body trembled at the exertion of keeping all that newfound, raw energy from lashing out. I could feel my own eyes burning the tell-tale light.

Thorin wrenched himself out of the grasp of his fearful captors and pressed his forehead against mine. "Lyra, listen to me," he whispered fervently, "Do not break your oath for the likes of him- remember, Lyra."

His insistent words reached me through the blinding anger, and I regained control with a shuddering breath. I sagged against Thorin's strong frame and breathed in his scent to calm my thundering heart. "Thank you," I mumbled.

"Take the prisoner to his cell," Thranduil ordered, eyes fixed upon me.

"Lyra!" Thorin called after me as he was taken away.


	18. Chapter 18

Thranduil did not speak until we were alone. "I have not met one of your race before…yet I feel as though your name is one I have heard before…you intrigue me," he announced smoothly, addressing me from over his shoulder.

"I am flattered a king would take interest in one such as me," I mocked. We gazed at one another, locked in a stalemate, and I was determined not to be the one to yield.

"Lyra…that was what Oakenshield called you…you may roam the Hall as you see fit. I will see to it that rooms will be prepared for you."

"You mean a cell besides Thorin, surely."

"You think me that callous?" Thranduil remarked, "No- your rooms will be near my own…so that I may see to your care personally."

"You said that I may wander the Hall- I wish to be taken to Thorin's cell," I repeated, "Or are you going to mark yourself as a liar so soon?"

Thranduil's nostrils flared, and his eyes narrowed dangerously. It was then I became aware of how vastly taller he was to my small stature, but I did not let my wariness show. "Escort Lady Lyra to the dungeons to see the prisoner," he finally ordered, "I will send for you when it is time to sup."

"I refuse to be summoned like some plaything under the fleeting attention of a king!" I hissed.

Thranduil regarded me with an inclined head, akin to the great cat that roamed the mountains of my homeland. "What an amusing puzzle you present me with, Lady Lyra," he murmured in dismissal.

The path down to the dungeons was as vexing as it was unnecessary elaborate, the guard stiffly guided me to Thorin's cell in silence and adamantly stood watch despite my own dismissal. "Thorin?" I called out softly. A smile of relief took hold as the dwarf prince came into view.

"I heard what Thranduil said to you," he grunted.

"I have it under control," I assuaged him, "Save your worry for our friends." I sat on the ground just on the other side of him, the cell door blatantly keeping us apart. "I fear the forest will…" I trailed off, unable to voice my fear.

"They are hearty dwarves- they will not be so easily conquered…here," Thorin murmured, reaching between the bars to hold out his hand. One of his rings lay in his palm- the ring of Durin. "Read the inscription, if you can," he urged.

My fingertips dragged faintly against Thorin's clammy palm as I carefully plucked the proffered ring. "_Heart of Durin, heart of stone_," I read softly in Khuzdul.

"Since when can you finally speak Khuzdul?"

"Bifur has been teaching me," I explained.

"You may not be a dwarf, but you have the heart of Durin, Lyra," Thorin spoke softly, "And you are better than that damned elf up there."

I held out the ring for Thorin to take back; what Thorin did whilst doing so caught me off guard. His large hand gently gripped the crook of my elbow, and then traced the line of my arm. I had never felt so unsettled and so fragile- even under the care of the dragons I had felt strong. Thorin's hand stilled at my wrist, and I knew that he could feel my pulse thundering against his fingertips.

"You should get cleaned up and go up to dinner- you are starving like the rest of us," Thorin announced, drawing away into his cell and away from me.

"As you wish."

An elf maid was waiting for me at the top of the stairs. "King Thranduil has instructed me to make you ready for the feast tonight," she explained gently.

The next hour was spent with that infernal she-elf scrubbing me down in honeysuckle scented water, shoving a thrice damned dress onto me, and twisting and prodding my riotous curls into an elaborate hairstyle. I had to bite my lip to keep my smirk at bay when she finally swallowed the bitter meat of defeat when she realised my tendrils possessed no desire to be trapped or tamed. I waited for her to leave before I tied my hair back with the metal clasps I had brought from my homeland.

"Lady Lyra, King Thranduil bids me bring you to him to join the feast."

"Very well," I sighed, and followed the elf to the celebration.

"Lady Lyra," Thranduil greeted me with a faint dip of his head. He motioned for a serving elf to pull out my chair, which lay at his right hand. _Thorin would have seen to it personally_; my lips quirked at the thought, which caused the elf king to swell with languid pride. "This pleases you," he noted.

I blinked owlishly at him, acting as if he had never spoken, and looked around at the other attendants. I felt…insignificant amongst all these ethereal beings that could stand by watching the world fall away and not age a day. I silently tucked into my meal, and throughout the courses Thranduil kept his gaze fixed on me.

"You are not a dwarf, for you are not ugly…" Thranduil mused, idly tracing his upper lip with pad of his middle finger. "Nor are you of elven blood…you present a challenge I will relish conquering, Lady Lyra."

"Excuse me, but I must retire. The magic of this forest has me addled still," I murmured, and slyly tucked the large remainder of my plate's contents into the linen napkin. A seemingly innocuous stomp of my heel as I walked down the steps kept me on the right path to Thorin' cell as I descended into the lower hall. "Thorin?" I called out faintly, nervously casting a glance over my shoulder to look for any approaching guards.

"Lyra?"

"I stole some food- I…I do not trust Thranduil to keep you properly fed," I explained, "And I am not one for merriment at the moment." I pressed the bulging napkin into his hands, and gave him a sheepish smile.

"Despite their manners and sense of humour- or lack of it all- they are not orcs. The guards brought me my meal before they left to join the celebration."

"Oh." My cheeks burned, and I felt so foolish. "Thorin…will you tell me more of Erebor?"

"Aye… The great gates of the kingdom are guarded by the grand statues of my forefathers, hewn from the roots of the mountain. You can always smell the smoke from the forges' fires, and the rhythmic chipping of miner's pick axes…"

_It reminded me of home_.

"Lady Lyra," Thranduil announced, causing me to lurch upright. As I wildly looked about, I realised that I had again fallen asleep to Thorin' story telling. "Why would a delicate lady, such as you, subject herself to the unsavory company of a dwarf and a cold dungeon floor? Especially when the rooms I had prepared for you are fit for a queen?"

Thorin growled deep in his chest, and glared at the elf king with unabashed loathing. I cast him a warning look, and rose to my feet. I tried to roll my shoulders, but found my mobility restricted by the confinement of the dress I wore; I turned my back to Thranduil and faced Thorin. His eyes softened as they met mine, but only just. "Good night, Thorin Oakenshield," I bid warmly, and smiled faintly.

"_Heart of Durin, heart of stone_, Lyra," he reminded me.

My heart grew lighter and an easy smile curved my lips, and I did not wilt under Thranduil's scrutiny. I softly padded up the stairs, growing more distant from my dear friend until I came to the door of the bedchambers that were to be mine. Already, I wanted to be back with him- with Thorin- but he obviously did not want me to gain Thranduil's unwanted attention. I scratched aimlessly at my shoulder, but the strange urge did not abate. I needed to expel the multitude of shards of energy that prickled unpleasantly beneath the thin, fragile layer of skin- I need to _bend_.


End file.
